Doubt That The Stars Are Fire
by Marla Fair
Summary: You asked for it - the next installment of the Joe Cartwright/Bella Carnaby story. Sequel to 'In The Darkness As In The Light'. Rated M for adult situations, language, and intense emotional drama. Eight years have passed since Joe and Bella met. Both have experienced great tragedy. A letter from Ben Cartwright paves the way for them to meet again. But is it too late for their love?
1. Prologue

Doubt That the Stars Are Fire

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PROLOGUE

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The lovely blonde woman stood by the window, a letter in her hand. She had read it a dozen times and was about to make it a dozen and one. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about the perfectly penned words that bothered her.

Spreading the folds of her elegant lavender silk dress wide, she sat on the window seat that filled the southern end of the vast drawing room in her four story brick home and read it again. Paying close attention, she perused the carefully written lines. She had received dozens of letters from this man over the years, all filled with news and fairly dripping with affection. She smiled at the intensity of pride she detected when the man spoke of the diversified interests he had – the lumber industry, silver mines, cattle breeding and horses. Earlier this year she had cried with him when a cherished family member died, and laughed at the antics of the young red-headed boy who could never take the missing loved one's place, but whose earnest presence had filled the void it left just a little bit nonetheless. The letters were among her most cherished possessions. She knew this man as well as she knew herself. He was no liar.

But he wasn't telling her the truth.

The young woman stared at the two page letter in her hand and then laid it aside on the cherry table that butted up against the wall. Rising, she crossed to the rosewood secretary. Using the key she wore around her neck, she unlocked it and lowered the drop-front. The rest of the man's letters were archived there, kept in a small cedar box, including those of the last six months – the ones that had been nearly impossible to read. They spoke in guarded terms of the descent into darkness of the one she loved. Lifting the lid, she placed her fingers on the top one. She hadn't exactly hidden them. Still, she had been afraid Mary would find them, or Michael.

The woman choked. Her breath came in quick little gasps. Dear Michael...she _had_ loved him with all of her heart.

No.

That was a lie.

Not with _all_ of her heart.

There was a part of it she had never given him. He'd known and yet he had loved her anyway – had _married_ her anyway. She owed him everything. If not for Michael, her family would have been destitute, lost after her father's sudden illness. It was all her ma could do to care for him and it seemed, for a time that her little brother and sister would be forced into menial labor, or even worse, end up on the street. Michael had been a good husband and a wonderful provider. They'd met when she came to his house to deliver the dresses she had fashioned for his youngest sister, Martha. Michael had been in his early forties. He'd opened the door and smiled at her, and she had been taken at once with his dark brown, almost black hair, that was shot through with silver and his wide green eyes. She'd made several trips to deliver the goods and on the last one, he had asked her to stay to dinner. In spite of his family's objections, he'd continued to see her and had, a month later, asked her to marry him. When she hesitated, Michael had taken her hand in his and told her that he knew – he _knew_ there was someone else. Did she love him? 'Yes', she had said. Then he asked, 'Can you be with him?'

No.

She told him then about her family, about her father who suffered from apoplexy, and about her hard-working mother. About her dear little brother and sister. About...

Him.

Michael had listened intently. He'd released her hand and touched her face. He'd offered then to care for her family and for her and to never ask questions if she would promise to remain faithful to him.

And she had.

Until he had died.

With trembling fingers the young woman inserted the key into the desk's central compartment keyhole and turned it. This opened an inner hidden door in the secretary. She turned the key upside-down and inserted it again, repeating the motion. There was a click and the sound of gears moving, and then the bottom of the compartment fell away to reveal a secret chamber below. The blonde's smile was wistful. The desk had been a present from her husband. Michael told her he valued her secrets and this was his way of showing his faith that neither they nor she would do anything to part them.

Quickly, she drew the stack of letters out of the recessed chamber. This stack was bound with an ancient ribbon adorned with a small tarnished ring fashioned out of silver paper. She sighed as she tucked a lock of honey-blonde hair behind her ear and then slipped her finger into it. _This_ was that missing part of her heart, these missives she had received and cherished for eight long years. The oldest were faded . The newest darkened with her tears. With a sigh, she slipped her finger back out of the ring and untied the ribbon. Selecting the letter on top, she returned to the window and unfolded the sheet. It was the last one she had received from him. The words stabbed her like a knife. First of all as a woman and, secondly, as a friend. How had he survived, this man she knew so well – this man who loved so deeply and was wounded so easily?

 _Had_ he survived?

Looking at the letter she'd left on the table, written by another who loved him, she began to doubt it. They were hiding something from her. Both men. One out of love, and the other, she feared, out of false pride – or if not pride, then something worse.

Fear.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her out of her reverie.

Mary stood in the open doorway. Her husband's eldest sister was old enough to be her mother. She was a hard woman with dull dishwater blond hair that she kept tightly knotted at the back of her neck. Mary hadn't approved of their marriage.

Just as she didn't approve of her.

"Yes?" the young woman asked.

"Rafe is here. He's wondering if you're still determined to go?"

Raphael Ashton was her husband's younger brother. Though Michael's will had left everything that was his to her, there were business holdings, accounts, and other things still connected to their late father's shipping business that had passed to Rafe. It made them partners in a way. Rafe had made it very clear that he disapproved of her travel plans.

"Yes," she replied at last. "I am _determined_ to go. Please remind Rafe that he has no say whatsoever over what I choose to do or where I choose to go. I am using Michael's money, not the family's, and as you know I need consult no one about what I do with it."

Mary's sour face told her what she thought of _that._

Her sister-in-law's pale eyes moved past her to the open compartment in the desk and the stack of letters resting there. She had been foolish not to close it the moment she realized someone had come.

"I suppose those are from _him_ ," Mary sniffed.

The young woman's jaw set in defiance. "Yes. He is my friend. Is there anything wrong with keeping a friend's letters?"

"Nothing, if the man is _only_ a friend." Mary's pale eyes narrowed. "I warned Michael about you. About marrying _damaged_ goods."

They'd been over this before – _so_ many times it was no longer worth the effort to argue. "If that's what you think."

"It's what I _know_. You forget. I watched with _him_ at the wedding. I warned Michael it was _him_ you loved. Why my brother wouldn't listen – "

She rounded on the other woman. "He knew! Don't you understand, Michael knew!"

It was _why_ she had finally agreed to marry him. Michael knew she loved another man and didn't care. All the younger men had cared. They'd wanted every fiber of her being and she simply couldn't give it. Michael understood that a piece of her heart remained on that thousand acre ranch in Nevada.

Looking at Mary, she wondered how two siblings could be _less_ alike.

The older woman straightened her sober black skirts and stiffened her back. "Well, if that _is_ true, it is a sad thing. You _used_ my brother. You are no better than a strumpet."

With that, Mary left the room.

The young woman began to shake. The letter fell from her fingers. She followed it quickly to the floor. Placing her head in her hands, she began to sob. How had she come to this? How? _How_ had she gone from that joyful child who loved life to a woman who only wished it would end?

The blonde woman's eyes returned to the letter on the table. She'd sensed in the older man's words a desperate cry. The man she loved needed her as much as she needed him. She didn't how she knew, but she did. As she knew she had to go.

She had to return to the Ponderosa.

It took all of the blonde woman's strength to rise and return to the secretary. She replaced the letters in the secret compartment, turned the key, activated the inner mechanism, and hid them once more from prying eyes. Then she went to the table and picked up Ben Cartwright's letter and read the last paragraph again.

 _You asked and I can tell you Joseph is well. He continues to work with the horses and that has brought him peace as regards his loss. He had a run in with an outlaw a short time ago, but it was nothing serious. A broken arm, nothing more. Joseph says to tell you hello and that he will write soon. He apologizes for the lack of letters this last few months. His hands had to heal after the fire. That and the break prevented him from writing. He says to tell you there is nothing to worry about._

 _He is fine._

Fine.

Well, she was _fine_ too.

Bella Carnaby Ashton laughed and the sound was bitter.

She should have been a Cartwright after all.


	2. Chapter 1

Doubt That The Stars Are Fire

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PART ONE  
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ONE

"Ben, you better come quick! It's happening again!"

Ben Cartwright dropped the ledger he was holding to his desk top and turned toward the office window. The shout had come from the front yard. It was late September. They were experiencing what was known as Indian summer and the air in the house was stifling. He had opened the window in the vain hope that some cool early evening air would make its way in.

Enormously vain.

Closing the ledger, the older man rose wearily from his chair. As he rounded the desk, he exchanged a glance with his youngest son, Jamie, who was settled on Marie's striped sofa with his nose in a book. The boy's love of reading was suddenly at war with another, deeper love. A love they shared.

One that had pushed them both close to the brink more than once over the last six months.

"Do you think Joe's hurt?" Jamie asked as he put the book down and rose to his feet.

No. He didn't think it.

He _knew_ it.

Ben crossed to the front door and threw it open. His assistant foreman Jim Appleby, his grizzled face shining with sweat, was standing just outside in the yard.

"Joseph?" Ben asked even though he knew he didn't need to.

Jim gave him a sympathetic look. "Yep. I know you told me to call you if...well..." The ranch hand hesitated. "Seems Joe took exception to somethin' one of the new men said. He's in the bunkhouse yellin' at him."

Ben's gaze went in that direction. He could hear raised voices and see movement within the quarters where their men were housed. If Jim had called him, there was something more. Joseph could take care of himself.

" _Which_ new hand?"

Jim winced. "Abel Ramsey.

A chill snaked down the older man's back.

"Good God..."

Abel Ramsey, along with a dozen or so other drifters, had been hired on in preparation for the fall cattle drive. Ramsey was a hard-living man. He was also a half-foot taller than Joe and weighed at least one hundred pounds more than his still slender son, and had a penchant for fighting that was legendary. At one time Abel Ramsey had been a bouncer in one of the houses of ill repute in Carson City. He'd also been known to prize fight from time to time. He was a powerfully built man with a strong musculature.

Trouble was, Candy said, Abel had even _more_ muscle between his ears.

Jim moved closer and dropped his voice. With an eye to Jamie, who was standing in the open doorway, staring toward the bunkhouse, he muttered, "I tell you, Ben, it seems sometimes that youngest of your three is _trying_ to get himself killed."

Ben nodded. Sadly, Joe had come close to succeeding several times in the past few months. There had been brawls in the saloon and brawls in the street, but that wasn't the worst of it. Joe was pushing himself beyond endurance and expecting the men to go with him. That had caused brawls at home.

Like this one.

As the argument within the wooden structure grew louder and more heated, the older man blanched.

"Jim, what's the date?"

The other man snorted. "Easy to lose track, ain't it? September 12th, I think."

How could he have missed it?

It was six months to the day since Joe's wife, Alice, and his unborn child had been murdered.

The signs had been there. He'd noticed how tense Joe had become over the last week or so. His son had barely eaten or slept for days. He'd often come down early in the morning to find him sitting, staring into the fire. Everyone in the household from Jamie to Hop Sing had felt Joe's baseless wrath. At first, the older man had felt nothing but sympathy for his son. Joe had been through _so_ much and he felt he owed him time to come to grips with all he had suffered. As if the sudden death of his brother and the murder of his wife and the loss of his child had not been enough...

Then, there was Tanner.

A few days before, in spite of his best intentions, Ben's patience had run out. By his own admission, Joe had always been moody and prone to fly off the handle with little or no cause. Hard as that was to deal with, his son had also been just as prone to admit he was wrong and apologize. 'Sorry 'was a word Joseph Francis Cartwright knew all too well. This week, there had been no apologies. His son's anger had simmered and boiled over at the least provocation and he had stubbornly and sullenly refused to express any kind of regret. Several days before they had come to words. Joe had ripped into Hop Sing about something their cook and friend had shifted in his room, bringing the man from China near to tears. He'd taken his son aside and told him he was acting like a child.

There was an old phrase. ' _If looks could kill'_.

He had known its meaning that day.

Joe had slammed out of the house and gone to the barn and mounted and ridden away. He was gone three days without sending word. When his son returned, it was obvious he'd been drinking and had been in another brawl. Nothing was said. No questions were asked.

Joe knew it as well as he did. His actions had proven his father's point.

Since his son's return tensions had run high but, for the most part, they'd gotten along amicably enough. It was time to get ready for the cattle drive and, like every man on the ranch, Joe had more than enough work to do. They had a record number of beeves this year and it would take all of them to get them to winter pasture. On top of that, they'd secured a new contract with the army and there were a dozen horses to be busted and broken. Ben chewed his lip thoughtfully. The horses were Joe's area of expertise and – usually – his salvation. When his son was with his horses it seemed he could forget – for just a moment – the life that had almost been.

Almost.

"Do you know what Ramsey said to upset Joseph?" Ben asked Jim as the shouting grew louder still.

Jim looked slightly sick. The other man touched his temple with two fingers. "Had somethin' to do with Joe not bein' right up here."

"Not right?"

The ranch hand looked apologetic. "Cause of what happened with Tanner." At his look Jim added, his voice pitched low once again, "It's all over town, Ben. Some say Tanner broke Joe just like he's been breaking those high-spirited horses all these years. Sorry to say, there's men a plenty who have been waitin' for somethin' to take Joe Cartwright down."

"Pa!"

Jamie – who was still on the porch – had shouted. His call came just as a man barreled backwards out of the bunkhouse door. It took a second to realize it was Candy Canaday. His current foreman rolled over twice and landed on his feet. Candy's chest was heaving. His chiseled features were set in anger. Ben expected to see Abel Ramsey come flying out of the bunkhouse after him.

Instead it was Joe.

Joseph Francis was thirty-one years old now. He'd gained some bulk over the last five years, adding muscle so his lithe frame filled out. As a boy and young man, Joe had been deceptively thin. Larger, powerful men thought of him as an easy mark and were often surprised by how long it took them to defeat him – _if_ they defeated him at all. The one thing they didn't understand was the boy's determination.

He looked _very_ determined now.

Joe was between Candy and the bunkhouse. His lower lip was split and bleeding, and there was a deep gash over his right eye. He was breathing quickly, drawing air in through flared nostrils and snorting it out just as quickly. His son's mouth, which had once been so quick to smile, was a thin line drawn in rage.

Joe stormed up to Candy and jabbed a finger in his chest. "I told you to keep out of this and I meant it!"

Candy was wiping blood from his own lip with his thumb. "You want me to listen to you, Joe? Make sense and I will!" he countered. "Ramsey could have killed you!"

"I can fight my own battles!" Joe shot back.

"Well, pardon me!" their foreman snapped. "The fact that you were on the ground with a boot in your spleen kind of seemed to me a pretty good indication that you can't!"

His son's jaw tightened. "I would have taken him down."

"Down _with_ you, you mean? Into the grave?" Candy shook his head. He reached out with one hand. "Joe, admit it. If I hadn't stepped in you'd be dead!"

Ben's gaze went to Jamie. The boy had left the porch and was standing in the yard to the side. His adopted son was ghostly pale. Jamie adored Joe. He looked up to him. Unfortunately, like the rest of them, the newest Cartwright had been forced to come to terms with his older brother's current penchant to attract trouble like the proverbial moth to the flame.

Realizing it was time, the older man moved toward Marie's son.

"Joe, that's enough," he said.

His son started and then pivoted on his heel. Ben had seen many looks out of those green eyes in a little over thirty years – anger, sadness, humility _and_ humiliation. The face his son turned toward him now held a new one.

Fear.

"Pa..." he stuttered. "Pa, I...can't..."

There was a noise.

The roar of a bull elephant couldn't have been louder.

Joe swung around just as Abel Ramsey exploded out of the bunkhouse turning the air blue with curses. Ben winced as the behemoth that was Ramsey charged and his son's body took the full brunt of the man's anger. Before anyone could do anything, the powerful drifter drove Joe to his knees and then to the ground and then, as his son lay there supine, began to pound him.

For one stunned second they all remained where they were. Then Candy and Jim Appleby were on the move. Ben remained where he was and drew his gun. He didn't want to shoot the man, but he would if it meant saving his son's life. Raising the gun, he fired two rounds into the air. Then he pointed the barrel at Ramsey's chest.

"Abel! Abel Ramsey! Stop! Stop it _now!"_

Ben had seen rabid animals before. The look out of Ramsey's eyes was the same. His hands were on Joseph's throat and his fingers were closing.

"Think man! Is it worth your life?" he shouted.

"Abel!" It was Candy this time. "You kill Joe, you kill yourself. Let him go! Do you hear me? _Let him go_!"

Joe's face was crimson and his chest rose and fell unevenly as he struggled for air.

Was he going to watch his son die before his eyes?

Ben's finger tightened on the trigger. Candy was pulling at the big man now. He was still shouting; trying to reason with him.

"Pa?" Jamie called, his voice quaking. "Ain't you gonna shoot him? He's gonna kill Joe!

He _was_ going to. But God was gracious.

Abel Ramsey let go.

Later, when he considered what had happened, there was little Ben could recall about the next few moments. Men pouring out of the bunkhouse. Ramsey's beefy hands opening as he rose. Joseph's battered form dropping to the earth like a sack of meal. Candy shouting at the men, rallying them. One of them finding a rope and binding Abel's hand with it.

Jamie, in the dirt, kneeling by Joe, shaking him and calling him by name.

He'd run to Joe's side. His son's skin was livid and his lips were tinged with blue. Almost as soon as he felt panic overwhelm him, Joe coughed and drew in a great gasp of air and began to breathe.

It seemed it was over.

 _Seemed._

Sadly, the older man knew better. He'd sailed the seas for many years. During that time he'd often seen young lads, new to the sailor's life, rest easy after they weathered a storm, not realizing what was yet to come. Looking at his son now as he staggered to his feet and leaned heavily on his younger brother, he – a seasoned sailor – recognized the moment for was it was.

The calm before the storm.

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Supper that night was quiet.

Very, _very_ quiet.

As soon as he could, Joe dismissed himself from the table and headed out to the barn. Candy had eaten with them and, when his friend followed him out the door, he was afraid he would try to talk to him. Instead, sensing his mood, Candy had merely bid him goodnight and headed for the bunkhouse.

His 'mood'. That was all it seemed he _had_ lately – moods. Joe snorted and then winced at how much it made his head hurt. His fingers explored the gash over his eye. It had required two quick stitches, which Candy had obliged him to do, saving him a trip into town to see the doctor. It might not be the prettiest job – and who knew if it would leave a scar – but he had long since gotten over his vanity.

'Long since' being six months ago.

Joe drew a deep slow breath in through his nostrils and let it out through his lips. Involuntarily his hand went to his throat. He'd tied a kerchief around it for supper. The sight of himself in the mirror as he left his room had made him feel like he was seventeen again, but it hid the bruises left by Abel Ramsey's fingers. That didn't stop Pa's eyes from going to his neck. Time and time again. He knew he'd scared his father, taking on a giant like Ramsey. He'd scared himself.

Mostly because he couldn't _stop_ himself.

Yeah, Ramsey had made him _damn_ angry, saying what he did in front of the men. Still, it wasn't like he hadn't heard it half of his life.

 _Look, there's Joe Cartwright, old Ben's mollycoddled son._

 _You see Joe Cartwright over there? Pretty boy ain't got a brain in his head. Good thing that ain't the part the ladies are interested in._

 _Joe Cartwright? Ain't you heard? Since his wife died, he ain't right in the head._

Joe laughed again as he reached up and untied the kerchief.

Well, he couldn't argue with that last one.

He'd been managing – at least as well as a man can 'manage' when dealing with a horror that went beyond belief. Oh, he'd had his bad days. Hell, he'd had days when all he could do was sit in a corner and cry. But that was to be expected. After all, his whole life was a train wreck where everybody died but him. There were moments when he didn't want to go on. But that's what they were – moments. With each passing day, everyday life had seemed a little more possible to endure. After all, he had his work and still had Pa and Jamie. Thinking of the boy his father had adopted, Joe shook his head. How he wished he could apologize to his two big brothers. He'd had no i _dea_ what they had to put up with! He loved Jamie, but there were times when the boy's enthusiasm and energy were enough to drive him...

 _Bad_ choice of words.

Arriving at the barn, Joe opened the smaller door and entered through the workshop area. Moving quietly, so as not to frighten the horses, he went to where Cochise was stabled and slipped into the slat-wood box that was his friend's home. Picking up a brush, he began the rhythmic motion that was grooming Cooch's coat. It was something he did – groom Cooch – when his nerves had him jumping higher than a kite. He'd done it so often over the years, it was a wonder the poor horse had any hair left! He kept it up for about five minutes while the animal shifted, wrinkling his back muscles in delight or disdain, he wasn't sure which. Eventually, he gave up and returned the brush to its housing.

It wasn't working tonight. That kite was _still_ flying high.

Moving over to a bale of hay, Joe plunked his weary body down and lowered his head into his hands. Since the fire he'd been plagued by nightly terrors that left him bathed in sweat and trembling from head to toe. There was never any sound. Like a magic picture show, the images went round and round in his head. He was driving the wagon. He saw the flames and realized what was happening. Jumping from the wagon, he'd run toward the house and try to pound the door in. In real life he hadn't seen her, but in his dreams Alice was always standing in the window, in the midst of a rain of fire, calling out to him. Calling with no sound. As his pa grabbed him and dragged him back, a man's hands circled her waist, reminding him of, well, of what he was sure happened _before_ she was murdered. He'd end up laying on the ground with the pain in his fried hands pounding, almost too great to bear, and then she'd reappear. Alice would walk out the door bearing before her the shriveled and burnt corpse of their child, and offer it to him.

As if the responsibility for their deaths was _his._

Joe sighed. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. Recently, the nightmares had intensified. They were no longer silent. Now they were accompanied by that song. The one Bill Tanner had whistled incessantly.

That _damn_ song.

Joe lifted his tear-streaked face and ran the back of his hand across his eyes. He sniffed as he looked toward the house where his pa and Jamie were, waiting for him to show. His house with the comfortable, warm bed he'd slept in for over thirty years. There was many a man would kill to sleep in a bed like that.

Not him. He'd decided to give up sleeping.

It was wearing him down and he knew it. His frayed nerves were close to breaking. He didn't know where that was going to lead him, but he had a notion – either that mad house Ramsey'd said he needed, or to that place by the lake where his mama lay resting.

Rest.

God, he needed to rest.

It was why he'd taken Ramsey on, even though he was twice his size and three times as mean.

He _wanted_ to die.

"Joe?"

His green eyes closed. Not now. Not...

Joe drew a breath and forced a half-smile as he turned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Jamie shrugged. "It ain't that late. I'm sixteen, you know? I ain't a kid anymore."

How familiar that sounded.

"I don't know," he replied with a ghost of a smile. "If Pa heard you say 'ain't', he might just treat you like one."

"You say it."

He snorted. "Yeah, I do. Don't I?"

Jamie was kicking at some old straw on the barn floor. It took a second, but he asked what Joe knew he was going to ask. "Can I talk to you?"

"Look, Jamie, if Pa sent you out here to scold me –"

The redhead glanced toward the house. "Pa don't...doesn't know I'm here." He looked a little embarrassed. "In fact, he told me to leave you alone."

Joe's brows peaked toward the tangle of silver curls on his forehead. "Oh?"

"He said you needed time by yourself." Jamie looked straight at him. "I think he's wrong. I think...you spend _too_ much time alone."

Sage wisdom from a sixteen year old kid.

Joe patted the hay bale beside him. Jamie hesitated only a moment before joining him. Then the two of them sat there in silence.

"Well?" he asked a minute later.

"I'm right sorry about everything you've been through, Joe. You know that, don't you?"

How could Jamie wonder about that? Then, with sudden insight, he realized the boy was taking the distance he had put between them personally, just like _he_ had always done as a kid. Jamie didn't think he wanted to be alone. Jamie thought he didn't want to be with _him._

Moved, Joe sniffed back another stream of tears. "I know."

"Then why..." The boy paused. He did that thing, where he pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow, looking for all the world like a kid working a sum. "How come you don't want me around?"

Joe chuckled. "It's not that I don't want _you_ around. I don't want _anyone_ around."

"How come?"

He looked at his hands. How did he explain it? He didn't want the stares, the concern or the pity. Didn't want to have to think about what it was that _caused_ his family to feel they had to give those things to him. Because every time he looked up and found one of them watching him, he had to wonder why. Then he had to remember. He had to remember the brother that was no more. Had to remember Alice. Remember the child he had lost.

Remember Bill Tanner and the torture he had suffered at a madman's hands.

He felt Jamie's hand on his arm. "Are you all right, Joe?"

He couldn't stop them. The tears began to flow. He managed for a moment and then a great sob escaped him and suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

Finally, he managed to choke something out. It was one word, but it was everything.

"No."

He thought for sure Jamie would panic and go running for their pa. Instead, the pressure from his hand increased and then his little brother slid in closer to him and circled his shoulder with his arm. For a moment they sat there, saying nothing. Then...

"Joe, don't give up. _Please_ , don't give up." Jamie drew a breath. "I know you want to. I saw it... I saw it in your eyes today. Joe, you think no one would care. That we'd be better off without you like you are. It ain't true."

He turned his head. Jamie was so earnest, it almost made him smile. "It ain't, huh?"

"Joe, I..." His adopted brother cleared his throat. "I know you lost who you loved, but, well, I love _you_." A different light entered the boy's eyes, reflecting, perhaps, a bit of his own anger. "You just ain't thinkin' straight. Do you really want to do to your pa and me the same thing those bad men did to you?"

There were no words.

He was struck to the core.

Joe caught his little brother's shoulder with his fingers and squeezed it. Unburdening himself to a teenage boy seemed unfair, but – suddenly – he _needed_ to talk to someone.

"Jamie, I..." He sniffed and swallowed. "I don't...know what's wrong. It's like I'm in a dark place where there's no light and no way to find any. I know there's something there in the dark with me, waiting to pounce, waiting to...devour me. I fight it." He looked at the boy, who was staring at him wide-eyed. "I fight it for all I'm worth, but there's no winning. No amount of grit or guts can put me on top and...it's beginning to pull me down."

Joe stopped himself. He'd been about to say, 'And I know when I reach bottom, that's the end. There'll be nothing left – nothing left of _me_.'

How had that Shakespeare fellow Adam liked so much put it? For some morbid reason the passage from Macbeth was one of the ones his brother had read that stuck with him.

 _Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing._

"You wanted to die today, didn't you? You wanted Abel Ramsey to kill you"

The question came at him like a bullet from a Colt. He couldn't dodge it.

Maybe he didn't want to.

"Yeah," Joe admitted with a sigh. "But he didn't."

He didn't know what reaction he expected, but it wasn't what he got. Jamie shot to his feet. The boy's jaw was tight and he was snortin' air like a bull ready to charge.

"You know what you are? You're selfish! You ain't thinkin' about anybody but yourself! Do you think this is what Alice would have wanted? You behavin' like a baby?" Tears of anger streamed down the boy's face. He threw his hand out and pointed toward the door. "You want your pa to lose _all_ of his sons? You want to _kill_ him too?"

He should have felt shame.

Instead, he felt rage.

"What do you know? You're a child! You haven't lost –"

"Oh, I don't know 'cause I ain't lost anything important? What about my ma dying when I was little? And what about my pa? What about me watching him being tarred and feathered, and then watching him waste away and die?" Jamie was furious. His anger made him bold. "I know your pa's ashamed of you. I think Alice would be too!"

He didn't mean it.

The sound of the back of his hand contacting Jamie's cheek echoed through the barn along with the boy's sobs.

"I _hate_ you!" he screamed.

And was gone.

Joe stood unmoving. He wasn't angry with the boy.

He hated himself too.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben's head came up from the book he was reading as the front door flew open and Jamie ran up the stairs. He didn't even have time to ask what was wrong or scold the boy for leaving the door open before he disappeared. Seconds later there was another _slam_ as Jamie's bedroom door was closed, apparently with vigor. At the sound Hop Sing came out of the kitchen, a dishcloth in his hands.

"Which boy make so much noise?"

Ben had to smile in spite of everything. Hop Sing refused to stop referring to Joe as a 'boy'.

"Jamie," he said.

The man from China frowned. "Where Little Joe?"

He was also the only one who could still get by calling Joe _that_ as well.

"In the barn, I think." Unfortunately, he was fairly certain that was the place Jamie had fled.

Hop Sing tucked the dishcloth behind the waistband of his apron. A determined look settled on his face. "Hop Sing go to barn and tell Little Joe to come in and stop worrying father."

"Hop Sing, no." He put the book down and rose. "I'll go talk to Joseph, that is, if he hasn't saddled Cochise and ridden off again."

"When boy get better," his old friend breathed. It was more of a question than a statement.

Ben placed a hand on Hop Sing's shoulder and for a moment they stood there, united in their concern for this man they had reared and loved from a child. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as he entered the yard, Ben saw that the smaller door to the barn was open. In all likelihood Joe was still within, as he would have had to open the larger one in order to ride out. Quietly, the older man crossed the yard and stepped in. Joe had his hip anchored on the edge of the table they kept in the area that served as a sort of office.

There was a whiskey bottle in his hand.

As he watched, his son placed something in his mouth and then he lifted the bottle and took a long, drawn out swig. Curious – in truth, frightened – Ben cleared his throat, making it apparent he was there.

Joe looked at him, his expression as sheepish as it had been when, as a boy, he'd caught him kissing a girl in the church closet.

"Hey, Pa," he said, his voice feeble.

"Hey, yourself." The older man crossed to the table. Taking one of the chairs from its side, he pulled it back and sat in it.

He said nothing.

Joe remained silent for several heartbeats and then asked, "Is Jamie okay?"

"I wouldn't know. He ran straight up the stairs to his room and locked his door." Ben paused. "Do _you_ know anything about that?"

His son hesitated. "I guess he was angry with me."

"I see." He studied Marie's boy. The beating Joe had taken earlier was evident in his split lip and the bruising on his face and neck. But there was something else. Something...indefinable.

Something wrong.

"And did Jamie have a _reason_ to be angry?"

Joe looked straight at him. It seemed he had aged a decade in the last few hours.

"Pa, I need to go away."

Ben steeled himself. He'd seen this coming.

"You're a grown man. I can't stop you."

Joe's expressive eyebrows danced. "That's it? No argument, just goodbye? It's been nice to know you?"

The older man spread his hands wide. "Obviously, I don't want you to go."

"It might be nice to hear it," his son said quietly.

"And if I had said 'no', you would have acquiesced and gone docilely back into the house?" Ben shifted. "If you want to go, there's nothing I can do to keep you from it. I can tell you, though, that it won't work. Joseph, what's wrong is _inside_ you. You'll take it with you wherever you go."

His son stood and walked over to look out the window that fronted on the house. "You're speakin' from experience, I suppose."

"Yes."

Joe looked over his shoulder. "I'm not you, Pa. I don't know if... If I've got in me what _you_ had in you to make it through."

Ben rose and walked to his son's side. He placed a hand on his shoulder. Joe was trembling like a leaf. " _You_ may not know, but I do."

His son was silent for a second. "Did Candy tell you what Abel Ramsey said to me?"

The older man shook his head and lied. "No."

"Ramsey said Bill Tanner broke me, Pa. Broke me like a wild mustang." Joe's jaw grew tight even as tears appeared in his eyes. "And you know what? He's right."

His fingers tightened on his son's shoulder. "So what if it is? Joseph, you know why we tame horses. It's not about breaking them. It's about teaching them to bend. It's about taking something that is wild and reckless, something that might injure itself or others, and turning it into something positive that has a purpose. Joseph," he paused, "do you understand?"

His son crumpled before his eyes. Ben caught him just as he hit his knees and circled him with his arms. Together they knelt in the dirt and debris of the barn. Joe's fingers gripped his pale blue shirt, digging into the fabric as he desperately clung to him.

His face pressed into his shoulder, his son breathed, "Pa, help me. I'm so alone. I can't find my way back."

"You're not alone, Joseph. You'll _never_ be alone." Tears streamed down his face. " _I'm_ here and I'll help you find your way back. Son," his voice grew stern, "look at me."

Joe did as he was told. His face was that of the child he had been.

"Do you trust me?"

It took a second, but he nodded.

Ben forced a smile. "Remember that time when you were five and climbed Eagle's Nest?" He knew he did, and so he continued. "It was night by the time I found you. I could hear you crying. I was coming to get you, but you couldn't see me. You thought you were all alone. That no one was coming. That you would never make it home." He placed his hand over his son's trembling one. "Am I right?"

Joe nodded again.

"But you _did_ make it home. Someone _did_ come. You were not alone." Ben drew a breath. "Son, you're not alone this time either. We'll make it through this. _You'll_ make it through this."

Joe sniffed. "Are you sure, Pa?"

He ran his hand through his son's curly locks, marveling as the light streaming through the window turned them to pure silver.

"I'm sure."

Joe remained still for a moment and then he said, "I need to apologize to Jamie."

"I imagine you do."

His son rose to his feet. Joe ran the back of his sleeve over his face, wincing when he hit his sore lip. Then he smiled.

"Thanks, Pa."

With a shy grin, Joe disentangled himself and headed out of the barn.

Ben remained behind for some time, thinking. Joseph had always been a study in contradictions. Vibrant and alive one moment, optimistic and enthusiastic, and then just as suddenly sullen and depressed and given to dark moods that at times frightened him. The thing that saved Marie's boy was that there had always been a balance, as many good days as bad, as much laughter as anger.

It had been many weeks since he had heard his son laugh.

Rising slowly, Ben made for the door. As he walked, his foot encountered something laying on the floor. Reaching down, he realized it was the liquor bottle Joe had been holding. With the memory of his son guzzling the whiskey came another. What was it Joe had swallowed just as he came in the barn, or was it only his imagination that he had? Maybe his split lip was hurting him? Perhaps, he had been wiping away a trickle of blood.

Relegating his concern over what he had seen to the back of his mind, Ben Cartwright concentrated on the needs of the moment as he headed toward the house, leaving that question for another time.

It was a mistake.


	3. Chapter 2

TWO

Bella nodded to the servant who stood in the street by the family carriage. He would wait for her until she was done and then take her to the stage depot. From there, she'd travel to the port on the Colombia River and board the steamship 'City of Chester' and be on her way.

The blonde woman mounted the steps to the front door of the building in front of her. She waited a moment, gathering her thoughts, and then opened it and went in. The door was attached to the modest white house her parents and siblings had moved into after her father's illness rendered him incapable of keeping a farm. It was much smaller than the one her pa had built when they first arrived in Canyon City, Oregon, but was lovely nonetheless. They'd lost the big house after Pa took ill, when he couldn't work anymore and pay the taxes. After that they'd rented, but the places they could afford were in the bad end of town and they had to worry all the time about someone breaking in or stealing from them. The house she stepped into now was in a fine part of town. It was neat and comfortable. Since Jack was away at college, it was just her ma and pa, Sophie and Benjie-Joe living at home so they had plenty of room.

The blonde woman smiled as she closed the door behind her. She could see her youngest brother's scowl. He'd been at the tail end of the line and so had been the one – like Little Joe – who got the nickname that stuck way past its time. Her youngest brother was almost seventeen now.

She'd have to remember to call him Benjamin.

As she paused just inside the parlor, Bella heard a noise off to the right that indicated someone was in the kitchen. Instead of calling out, she headed that way. The cook room was to the rear of the house and looked out on a yard that went back some forty or fifty feet. It wasn't much, but then land in Canyon City land was at a premium. It was big enough to house a chicken coop and a few other small outbuildings, and went sideways with a stable and barn. Since his sickness her pa couldn't manage much more than that and, truth to tell, he only managed what he did due to the fact that Benjamin had elected not to go to college. Ben said he didn't want to go in debt and was saving up money to go later, but they all knew he'd stayed home because they needed him. Pa's left side had never fully recovered. His muscles were weak. He just couldn't do the heavy work any more.

As she approached the kitchen, passing through a little side parlor into which the early morning light was spilling, Bella stopped. The window curtains were open and a golden shaft struck the ornate silver frame on the table. The elegant sterling frame looked a little out of place in her parents' humble home with its handmade wooden items and out-of-date settee. She crossed over to the table and picked the frame up and stared at the smiling couple whose images it held. It had been a housewarming present from Michael to her parents – just as the house itself had been a present to her, so she would know they were taken care of. She'd been an old twenty-three at the time she married him. Michael had been a young forty-two. Bella smiled as she remembered her ma and pa's reaction the first time she brought him to their home. Ma'd caught her by the arm while they were working in the kitchen and said how much he looked like an older Little Joe. Pa said he reminded him of Ben Cartwright. Bella sighed as she returned the likeness to the table. She should have loved him more. Michael was such a good man. He had deserved better.

Remorse stabbed her and she began to weep.

"Bella?" a voice called from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

The blonde woman ran her hand quickly under both eyes before turning toward the footsteps that indicated her mother was approaching.

"Yes," she replied, even as the older woman appeared. Her ma was still beautiful. Pa said she was slender as a sapling but sturdy as an oak. Mary Carnaby was nearing fifty, but her hair – for the most part – was still dark brown. Like Joe's had been the last time she'd seen him, it was shot through with silver that made it spark like lightning when the sun hit it just right. Her mother had aged, though, since the apoplectic fit her pa had four years back. She had a lot to do to take care of Pa even though – thank God! – he could do more for himself now.

Her mother came to her, took her by both arms, and pressed a kiss on her brow. Then she stood back and stared at her as if she was judging horse-flesh.

"You look thinner," she said.

Bella shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"Are you eating?" Before she could answer, the older woman added, "Are you eating _enough?"_

"Three times a day, like everyone." Bella paused. "Mary gets mad if the family doesn't eat together."

Her mother's tight lips and crinkled eyes told her just _what_ she thought of Mary!

"All that silly French food, I suppose," Ma said with a shake of her head. Catching her arm, the older woman started to draw her toward the kitchen. "You just come with me. I have a pot of chicken and noodles on the stove."

Bella resisted and her mother turned to stare at her. Her raised brows asked the question.

"I can't stay long."

Ma was staring again. "And why is that?"

The blonde woman hesitated. "Mama, I..." She drew in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going to Nevada."

She didn't know what she expected her mother's reaction to be. Fear, maybe, for her making such a long journey. Disapproval, perhaps, that she was chasing a man. After all, she was recently widowed. If word got out that she was going to visit the man she'd once loved...

 _Did_ love.

The older woman let out a breath. With it came the words, "It's about time."

Bella blinked. "What?"

Her mother removed her work apron. Folding it so the clean side was out, she laid it carefully across the back of a nearby chair. Then she took her hand and drew her over to the settee. They sat and turned toward each other as her mother took both of her hands in her own.

"You're going to the Ponderosa." It was a statement, not a question.

She nodded.

"Does Joe know you're coming?"

This time she shook her head. "No. I'm not wiring ahead."

"Can you tell me why?"

Her forehead furrowed with a frown. "Ma, I don't know if Joe would want to see me. I... I can't take the chance he would tell me not to come."

Her mother was startled. "Do you think he would?"

She didn't know what to think. Joe hadn't written her since, well, since _everything_ had happened. And from what his father said in his letters, she thought he might not want to see _anyone._ Bella paused, seeking the right words.

"I think...since Alice died he's...lost."

Her mother raised a hand to touch her cheek. "Are you sure it isn't _you_ who are lost?"

Bella sniffed in tears as she rose to her feet and began to pace. "I know what I'm doing, Ma. I'm not running away _from_ Michael's death any more than I am running _to_ Joe. He's my friend. I'm worried about him. Mr. Cartwright is hiding something." She turned and looked at her mother. "Something is wrong!"

A slight smile curled her mother's lips. "I couldn't agree more."

Again, it was not the reply she expected. "What do you mean?"

Her mother rose and came to her side. "Something has been _wrong_ since you returned from the Ponderosa eight years ago. Since you ran from life and from the man you love."

They'd talked. Ma knew _why_ she'd left. That she'd been...

Afraid.

"Ma..."

Her mother took her hand and drew her over to the window. As the glare from the sunlight died down, she saw her pa and little brother outside. Benjamin was chopping wood. Pa, who was seated beside him, was stacking it.

"He looks a little stronger," Bella said hopefully.

"He is. But your pa will never be what he was. He'll never be able to do what he did." Her mother turned toward her. "Bella, you know we almost lost your pa."

"I know."

"There were no Indians. There was no evil man with a gun. There was no desert to die of thirst in or mountain of snow to be buried under, and he _still_ almost died." She squeezed her fingers. "Nothing is certain in this world." The older woman paused. Then she smiled. "Well, no, that's not true."

Bella waited. When her ma failed to go on, she asked, "What is it?"

"Love, child. _Love_ is certain." The older woman hesitated again. "It's the only constant we have."

"But Ma, loving someone hurts...so much." Tears entered her eyes. "I was so..."

"Terrified?"

She hung her head in shame.

"I was afraid when your pa took ill too," Ma said, her voice growing wistful. "I was afraid Levi would die. But you know what?"

Bella looked up. "What?"

"Even if Levi _had_ died, I wouldn't have traded the time I've been with him and loved him to escape the pain his death would have brought me. " She held her gaze. "You married Michael because it was safe, because he was over forty and had survived. But it wasn't really safe, was it? Michael died anyhow. Bella, anyone, _anywhere_ can die at any time. We have to be brave. We have to _choose_ to love for whatever time we are granted."

The tears fell from her eyes to strike their joined hands. "I was so stupid," she breathed.

Her mother's laugh was gentle.

"No, you were young."

As Ma reached toward her, there was a knock at the door. The older woman frowned and then went to open it. Bella heard her exchange a few words with whoever it was, and then watched as the older woman backed up so they could enter.

Bella's breath caught.

It was Michael's brother Rafe.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mary Carnaby noted her daughter's body language as the young man entered the room. Rafe Ashton was a handsome, well-monied son of wealth who bordered on being spoiled, though he did have the redeeming quality that he loved her daughter. It was evident to anyone who was in the company of the pair. Rafe had been extremely jealous of his older brother when Michael and Bella married and had actually gone away to Europe, she believed, as a result of a broken heart. He had recently returned to handle his brother's estate. Rafe had come to see them a few days back to assure them that their home was safe even with Michael's demise. In case of his death before theirs, a small trust had been established to keep them there until they passed and to help with other things like their children's educations. She'd watched Rafe standing by the table, staring at the image of his brother and the woman he loved in the silver frame. Unlike his brother and sister who had dark hair and light eyes, Rafe's hair was blonde with reddish tones and his eyes and brows were brown as the coat of a bear. Everywhere he went he had eligible young ladies flocking after him. But Rafe had eyes for only one.

His brother's wife.

"Mrs. Carnaby," Rafe acknowledged her with a nod. "And how do you fare today?"

"I'm well," she answered.

"And your husband?"

"He's out in the yard with Benjamin. Mr. Carnaby is as well as can be expected."

"I am glad to hear it." The handsome man's eyes went to her daughter. "And you, Bella Are you well?"

Rafe couldn't see it, but _she_ could – Bella's ramrod straight back, her clenched fists; the way her lips drew into a line as her blue eyes sparked.

Her daughter was ready for a fight.

"Did you follow me here?" Bella demanded, her tone rude.

"Bella."

That curly blonde head whipped toward her. "Mama, I..."

"You are in _my_ house where Mr. Ashton is a guest. You will keep a civil tongue."

Bella glared at him a moment and then looked down. "Yes, Ma'am."

Drawing a breath Mary turned to the young man. "Would you like a drink?

Rafe seemed quite unaffected by Bella's attitude. "Thank you. That would be very welcome."

Her daughter went straight for the parlor door. "I'll get it," she said, and was gone.

Michael's brother watched Bella go and then turned a bemused face toward her. "Did I say something wrong? Or, do you think, it is merely the fact that I _exist?"_

He was a charmer, with that thick head of sandy red hair and those deep dark brows and eyes. Mary smiled inwardly. She'd bet he'd gotten by with just about everything when he was little!

"Bella is a little on edge today," she said.

"May I?" Rafe asked, indicating a chair.

She nodded. "Of course, forgive me for not offering."

As he sat, Rafe said, "I have been knee-deep in my late brother's affairs since very early this morning, trying to wrap up loose ends before the stage leaves today."

"Are you going somewhere so soon?" she asked. "Bella said you'd only arrived a week ago."

"So, she does mention me – without curses, I hope." He laughed. "I came in six days ago."

"Where are you going?"

His eyes shot to the kitchen into which Bella had disappeared. "I intend to see your daughter to Nevada."

Oh dear.

"Does Bella know?"

He frowned slightly, as if there was no need for her _to_ know. Then he said, "She is an unmarried woman now and cannot travel alone. She must have a chaperone."

"And you've appointed yourself to _be_ that chaperone?"

He was unperturbed. "Of course. I am her closest male relative – on my brother's side."

Mary's eyes flicked to the kitchen. She could hear Bella slamming drawers. "Does my daughter know about this?"

"No. It's what I came to tell her."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella was horrified.

She glanced at her little sister Sophie who was joyfully banging cupboard doors and rattling glasses so that their mother would think she was getting them all drinks. She had snuck back to the edge of the parlor and hidden behind the accordion doors to listen to what Rafe had to say.

Come with her indeed.

If wishes were horses!

The blonde woman though furiously. What was she going to say? _How_ was she going to stop him? The idea of traveling weeks by stagecoach and days by steamship with Rafe at her side fawning and hinting and practically slobbering on her was more than she could bear!

A finger tap on her shoulder made her turn. Sophie, who was about twenty, stood behind her. She was carrying a tray that held _four_ glasses of cider. Her sister peered out from under the wave of golden-brown curls on her forehead and asked, "Can _I_ take them in?"

"Whatever for?" Bella replied.

Sophie looked past her. Her cheeks flushed. "I think Rafe's beautiful." Her little sister let out a little sigh. "Even his _name_ is beautiful. Raphael..."

Bella took hold of the tray. "Rafe Ashton is a self-centered, self-indulgent, Beau Brummell!" she snapped, careful to keep her voice low.

"You're just saying that because you don't think I'm good enough for him, and because you want him yourself!" Sophie shot back.

"Because I...? " The blonde woman blew out an exasperated breath. "Well, I _neve_ r _!_ I wouldn't marry that fancy Dan if he was the last man on the Earth!"

"Oh, _right_. Because you're going to marry your cowboy now and go live with him in the Wild West where a rattler will eat you!"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Rattlers don't eat people."

"Whatever."

"Bella?"

They both turned toward the sound.

It was Ma.

"Yes, Ma'am," they said in tandem.

"Mister Ashton is waiting on his drink."

Bella pulled the tray from her sister's grip and rounded the folded accordion door with it. She plastered a false smile on her face as she said, "Here we are." Crossing over to Rafe, she served him first and then beat a hasty retreat to sit beside her mother on the settee.

"May I join you?" Sophie asked, her voice all sweetness and light.

Rafe took a sip, put the glass down, and then rose to his feet. He crossed to Sophie and, taking one of her hands in his, lifted it to his lips and planted a kiss on the top. "I have a few matters of business to discuss with your sister concerning my late brother's affairs and, for that, we need privacy." At her petulant look, he added, "However, when I am finished, I would be most grateful if you would accompany me on a short stroll. I would be the envy of the town with such a beauty as you on my arm."

Bella had one word for that.

 _Yuck_.

For a second Sophie was dumbstruck. She blinked, drew a breath – which was a good thing because Bella though her sister had forgotten how to breathe – and then turned and floated to the kitchen.

Her mother was laughing. "That was sweet of you, Mister Ashton."

"Rafe," he said with a charming smile.

"Rafe."

Double _yuck._

"And just what business do you have to discuss with me?" Bella asked, knowing full well what it was. "From what I've been told, all of Michael's affairs that can be settled at this point have been."

He nodded. "All of Michael's _business_ has been settled, but... Sister Mary and I have talked and we agree you simply cannot go to Nevada alone. It wouldn't be prudent or proper for an unmarried woman to do so."

"Oh, and I suppose traveling with you – an unmarried _man_ – _would_ be wise?" she countered sharply.

Rafe looked surprised. "Since I am your brother-in-law, yes."

Bella was at a loss. What _was_ she going to say? _How_ was she going to foil Rafe's well-thought out plan? As she sat there, mortified, her eyes alighted on her youngest brother outside the window. Benjamin had finished his work. With a nod to Pa, who remained in his chair, he headed for the back door.

 _Benjamin._

"But I'm not going alone!" she blurted out.

Her mother and Rafe exchanged a look even as Bella heard the back door open and swing shut.

The first little crack in Rafe's _oh-so-charming_ armor appeared as he scowled and demanded, "And just _who_ is going with you? There _is_ no one to go with you."

Her brother appeared in the doorway of the parlor, cider in hand, drawn by their voices no doubt. Ben had been working hard and sweat dripped from the ends of his auburn curls. The simple clothes he wore – a pair of dark canvas trousers and a well-worn burnt-orange work shirt – clung to his slender frame. He smiled at her when he saw her looking and then something else entered his brown eyes. They had always been close. In some ways, she'd raised him since their ma was so busy with her work and then, with their pa.

Ben knew something was wrong.

"There he is!" she exclaimed happily, springing to her feet and crossing over to her brother. Linking her arm in his, she announced, "It's Benjamin. Ben is going to go with me!"

God love him, her brother resisted asking where.

"Sure am," he said. Ben put his arm around her shoulder. "Can't let my big sister go alone."

Bella locked eyes with her mother. She knew it would be a hardship. She had some cash set aside, so she could pay for someone to do Benjamin's chores while she was gone, but it would still be tough for their pa.

Rafe was staring at the two of them. "He's a boy," he finally said.

"Hey!" Benjamin protested. "I'm almost seventeen."

Bella hid a smile. 'Almost' meaning in half a year.

"Still," the older man protested.

Her ma rose then and went to Michael's brother. She placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Rafe. I was about to tell you. You see, Benjamin Joseph is named after two of Bella's dear friends, Benjamin and Joseph Cartwright. He has his heart set on meeting them and, well, this _is_ aperfect opportunity."

The look out of her mother's eyes said she _mean_ t it.

Benjamin was beaming too. "Yeah," he said. "That's right!"

Rafe, being a creature of deception himself, glared at her brother. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it just as quickly, evidently deciding that – for the moment at least – he'd been outmaneuvered.

Thank God!

"Very well," he said. "Since you seem to think an sixteen year old boy is enough to keep your daughter safe on trip of some five hundred miles or more, I yield to your better judgment." Rafe's glare shifted from Ben to her. "I saw that your belongings are out front with Michael's man, so this is goodbye, Bella. I pray you have a safe and successful trip and will call upon you at your return."

Bella wanted to melt into a puddle. Instead she held her hand out and let him kiss it – and kept from wincing.

"Thank you, Rafe. I'll see you in a few months."

Rafe was already nodding to her mother. "Madame." A second later he was out the door.

Bella sighed. Sophie was going to have a fit!

As the door closed, their mother chuckled softly. "I was afraid, for a moment there, that he might take off the roof!" The older woman's eyes shifted to her brother. "Benjamin, I hope you don't mind going with your sister."

"Heck, no!" he said, and went on in spite of their mother's disapproval of his choice of words. "Where am I going?"

Bella laughed. "Nevada. To the Ponderosa!"

Ben's brown eyes lit like a sky with fireworks. He grinned from ear to ear. "You mean I really _do_ get to meet the legendary Cartwrights?"

"Yes!"

Her brother suddenly sobered. He looked out the window to where their pa was sitting soaking in the sun. "Is it okay, Ma? Really?" he asked. "I know you need me here."

"I'll pay for someone to come and help," Bella assured her mother.

Her mother squeezed her hand. "I know you will. We'll be fine. You two go and have your great adventure." Turning to her brother, their ma said, "You'll need to pack, son. Bella is leaving shortly."

Ben hesitated only a moment and then he shouted, "Huzzah!"

Bella laughed. "Huzzah?"

He grinned. "Yeah, huzzah. Or maybe it should be, 'yeehaw'! I get to be a cowboy!"

At that, Benjamin put a hand to his backside and began to slap it and then he and his pretend horse made their way up the stairs as quickly as they could in order for him to pack.

"The Ponderosa will never be the same," her mother said with a sigh.

Bella crossed to the window and looked out, her eyes following the retreating coach that held Michael's brother.

She certainly hoped not.


	4. Chapter 3

THREE

"Mister Cartwright? Mister Cartwright, you can come in now."

Joe was seated by the office window, looking out. He started from where his thinking had taken him and turned away to look at the young lady who'd stepped into the room. Jennie had dark brown eyes and a winning smile that belied the fact that, most of the time, she was welcoming people with...well...with problems.

People like him.

His grin was forced, but the charm was still there. "I thought I told you to call me 'Joe'."

Jennie was a sweet girl, barely twenty, and from what she'd told him the last time he'd come to Carson City to see Doctor Beverly Brandon, just married. There was a ring on her finger now. She blushed prettily as she stepped out of his way.

"Doctor Brandon will see you now...Joe."

He rose from his seat and crossed to where she was standing by the office door. "You be sure to tell that man you married that I said he was one lucky fella."

The blush deepened until Jennie's cheeks were nearly as crimson as the pattern on her blouse.

As Joe entered the office, Doctor Brandon rose to greet him. "Are you flirting with my receptionist again?" he asked.

Doctor Beverly Brandon was about Adam's age, somewhere in his early forties. He was an American, but had gone to Europe to study medicine and returned just in time to treat the veterans of the conflict between the states – the _Confederate_ veterans. Brandon had been born in South Carolina and so his family and loyalties were there. Due to that family he had relocated to Carson City in eighteen-seventy and opened a practice. At first there was a lot of resentment but, since he had not fought in the war, when his techniques proved successful with Union veterans as well it turned the tide of opinion toward him. Brandon was a tall man – at least three inches taller than him – and slender, with pale yellow hair that laid flat on his head and a thin mustache that curled slightly at the ends. Sometimes the doctor wore glasses, but more often than not, like now, he had them pushed back and perched on his head. Like his office, Beverly Brandon was well-attired in the latest fashion, but there was nothing showy – everything was utilitarian and comfortable. Everything was about making the people who came to see him comfortable.

Because, if you were here, you probably thought you were crazy.

Doctor Brandon came around the desk and offered his hand. He studied him a moment and then asked, softly, "I take it things are no better?"

Joe frowned. "Does it show?"

The older man shook his head slightly. "I have a trained eye. I doubt anyone else would notice." The doctor released his hand and indicated the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down and tell me about the last two weeks."

It had been that long since he had seen him.

Joe sat down and tried not to squirm. This was hard for him – _really_ hard. All of his life he'd taken on impossible challenges and overcome them. He'd pushed through and survived. He prided himself on the fact that no one could beat him or best him. _No one_ could stop him.

No one, it seemed, except himself.

Doctor Brandon waited patiently. It seemed to Joe that the man always knew what he was going to say before _he_ did, anyway.

"When you're ready."

Joe sucked in air and spit it out. "I've been a bastard."

Brandon's blond brows peaked. "I see. And just _how_ have you been a bastard?"

Since Alice's death and since...Tanner...Joe often found himself unfocused and lethargic. He just had no energy or intent to do anything. But there were times like this, where he felt he might explode if he didn't move. Literally jumping from the chair, Joe began to pace.

Where to begin?

"I jump all over everyone. I got a fuse that's about an inch long and when it reaches the end, I go off like dynamite. I've pissed off about every hand we have and traded blows with half of them and last night..." He paused. "Last night I made my little brother cry."

Brandon was silent a moment. "These fights," he said at last, "do you instigate them?"

Joe dropped back into the chair. Pacing hadn't helped. "Yeah."

"Do you know why?"

He met the doctor's clinical stare and knew there was no point in trying to deceive him. He'd been through this too many times over the last few months.

"I guess I figure if I keep pickin' on every hand we have, sooner or later one of them is gonna be bigger and faster than me and the whole _damn_ thing will end."

"The 'whole damn thing'? Meaning your life?"

Joe sunk back in the chair. "Yeah."

The blond man nodded. That was one of the reasons he'd kept coming to see Doctor Brandon after Doc Martin's assistant recommended him. No lectures. Just understanding.

"Have you been taking the medication I prescribed?"

He nodded. Probably too quickly.

" _As_ prescribed?"

Joe shrugged. "Mostly."

Beverly Brandon stood and came to the front of the desk and leaned on it. He looked at him directly. "And if I told you I had 'mostly' checked the cinch before I climbed into the saddle to bust a bronco, would that fly with you?"

Joe ran a hand across his mouth and favored the older man with a smile that was chagrined. "I'd say when you broke your neck, that you deserved it."

He nodded. "Precisely."

"It's just..." Joe hesitated. Somehow it seemed he was insulting the doctor. "I think I should be strong enough to beat this without taking pills."

The doctor's lips turned up in a wry smile. "And tell me, how is that going for you?"

He held Brandon's gaze for a moment. "It's not."

The older man placed a hand on his shoulder. "That, Joseph Cartwright, is one of the first signs I have seen that you are getting better. I know it's hard, especially for a man like you. I know your reputation. I know how strong you are."

Joe scoffed. "How strong I _used_ to be..."

"No. How strong you are _still_. Joe, science is discovering every day that the human mind can only take so much. Even the strongest man has a breaking point. Your wife's horrific death," Brandon paused, knowing the pain he inflicted with his words, "the death of your child, and your mistreatment at the hands of a madman... Only _one_ of those would have been enough to break most men. You survived. You are still here. You are just in need of help to recover. The mind is no different from the body. If you had a broken limb, you would have to let it rest. You need to let your mind and soul rest." Brandon rose and returned to the desk chair. "The medication I gave you will do just that."

Joe shifted uneasily.

"Are you able to turn your mind off, Joe? Can you banish the flames and the images of being hunted like an animal on your own?"

His jaw was tight; his nostrils flared as if he was preparing to fight. "You _know_ I can't."

"The medication will allow you to do so. That is all. If you take it as I prescribed, an hour or so before you go to sleep, it will help your body and your mind to rest."

"I should be able to do that on my own."

Doctor Brandon leaned back and sighed. " _Should_. How I wish I could banish that word from mankind's vocabulary." He paused before going on. "You know most of my patients up until recently were veterans?"

Joe nodded.

" 'What if?' 'I should have.' Do you know how many men, how many families have been ruined by those words? How many lives lost?" The older man leaned forward and met his defiant stare. "Joe, if you are having suicidal feelings, then you are in danger. I don't want to go to your father –"

"You can't tell Pa!" he exclaimed.

"I can and I _will_. If I think your life is in danger, I have an _obligation_ to do so." Brandon looked right at him. "However, I am willing to wait so long as you take your medication as prescribed and continue to come see me at least every two weeks. Joe, you are _my_ responsibility now." The doctor hesitated. "I would like to say as well, that you are my friend. I like you, Joe. The last thing I want to do is see you hurt."

He left the word 'yourself' unspoken, but it hung between them.

"How many doses have you skipped?"

Joe scowled. "I took one yesterday."

"And the day before?"

He shook his head. "About three days last week."

"You need to take it every night. Don't skip any doses. All right? If that doesn't work, the next time you come, we'll up the dose to three pills. I'd hate to go any higher, but you can take up to four."

"Two is more than enough," he grumbled.

Doctor Brandon stared at him a moment and then laughed. "I was warned about you Cartwrights. Did you know that? You and your father are quite well known in Carson City."

"So what was the warning?"

"That the good Lord created man and made him single-minded and determined, and then he made the Cartwrights and gave them a double dose!"

A smile tickled his lips. "Sounds like you've been talking to people who know us."

Again, the older man rose to his feet and came to stand before the desk. He waited until Joe rose as well to speak. "I know you can't hear this now, Joe, but I am going to say it anyway. I admire you. You are not a quitter, no matter what you think at the moment. You have inspired me in the time I have known you and you will continue to do so, I am sure, as your recovery progresses."

He didn't know what to say. Telling your doctor he was a liar didn't seem to be an option.

The blond man held out his hand. "Until next time?"

Joe took it. "Thank you, Doctor Brandon."

"Bev, please. I think we know each other well enough now."

Forcing a smile, he agreed. "Bev. See you in two weeks."

"Be sure to schedule it with Jennie. That way I'll know if you back out," Bev said with a hint of a smile.

The Joe Cartwright he had been would have laughed and made some cocky remark. But he wasn't the Joe Cartwright he had been.

Instead Joe nodded and walked out the door.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jamie Cartwright drew his mount to a halt and slid from her back. After tethering the animal to the rail, he started for the house. He'd gone to town on his own to pick up the mail and just arrived back. It was supper time and he caught the scent of pot roast with root vegetables on the wind. It made him smile. Hop Sing's roast beef was one of his favorite things on the earth. There'd be a big hunk of beef sitting in the center of the china platter, swimming in red wine and juices and surrounded by parsnips, potatoes and carrots. You couldn't beat it!

Jamie halted just outside of the front door, stopped by a sudden unwelcome thought. Pot roast was one of his big brother's favorites as well, though sometimes it made Joe sad when Hop Sing served it as it reminded him of Hoss. It reminded him of Hoss too, but the thought made him happy 'cause he could see the big man sitting there, claiming all of it and laughing at they tried to get their share.

Sometimes it seemed like Joe had forgotten how to laugh.

While he stood there, thinking, the door opened and his pa stepped out.

"Jamie! I was just wondering about you." The older man looked at his empty hands. "Did you get the mail?"

He knew he had a tendency to be a bit forgetful. It seemed like his mind was always running away with him and he was thinking of the next thing before he had the current one done.

"Sorry, Pa. It's in the saddlebag. I'll go get it."

It only took a moment. Jamie pulled the pile of letters out of the leather satchel, tied it off, and headed for the house. Pa was waiting for him and put an arm around his shoulder to let him know he wasn't mad, and then the two of them headed into the house. Once they were inside, the older man headed for the kitchen to let Hop Sing know they were ready to eat. As his pa disappeared around the corner, Jamie began to file through the letters. He'd sent for information from a couple of veterinary colleges and was expecting to hear back any day. He hadn't really decided if he was going to go to school or not, but Pa and Joe both said it never hurt to look into things. Most of the letters were common stuff. None were from the colleges. There was one that he found interesting. The envelope was made of really expensive paper, like the kind documents were written on, and it was blue.

It smelled too. Like a girl.

"What do you have there?"

He looked up to find that Pa was back. Jamie held the envelope out. "It's for you." He paused and then added with a mischievous smile. "You got a girl you ain't told me about?"

"Is there no return address?" the older man asked as he came to claim it.

Jamie shook his head. "Nope."

Pa turned the letter over and checked the back. "Hmm," was all he said.

"You gonna open it?"

At the moment Hop Sing called them to supper. His pa went to his chair and placed the letter on the table beside it. Then he took his arm and directed him to the table.

As they sat down Jamie looked at the empty chair opposite him and asked, "When's Joe due back?"

The older man opened his napkin and placed it on his lap. "Your older brother is...less forthcoming about his movements than he used to be."

Jamie waited. "So you don't know."

Pa sighed as he glanced at the door. "I don't know. I had hoped he would be back by supper."

It was legendary how many nights Pa had sat up waiting for his older brother when Joe was the youngest Cartwright in the house. He'd tried real hard not to make his pa worry about him, though it hadn't always worked.

"I bet he'll be back before we're done," he said encouragingly.

By the time they finished, Joe had still not appeared.

As Hop Sing cleared the table, the two of them went into the great room and sat down. He'd left the book he was reading there. It was one from Adam's old room. It had a funny name, _Les Misérables_ , which his pa had told him meant 'the miserables'. Victor Hugo had written it. At first he'd passed it by, but after opening it and reading a few pages, he found out that the story was really good. It was big book and he'd been working on it for some time. As his pa took a seat in the red leather chair, Jamie parked on the settee and picked it up. It wasn't until ten minutes or so later that he remembered the mysterious envelope and looked up to see if Pa had opened it.

The older man was sitting with the letter in his right hand. Two fingers of his left hand were perched on his lips and he was staring into the fire.

It looked like it might have been bad news.

"Pa? Is something wrong?"

The older man started. He remained as he was for a moment and then straightened up. "No," he said at last, "in fact I think it might be the best news I've had in a while."

When he said nothing more, the redhead asked, "Can you tell me why?"

His pa thought a moment. "Do you trust me, Jamie?"

It kind of startled him, that question. "Of course I do."

"Then, you'll believe me when I tell you that I can't explain right now."

The question was out before he could stop it. "Does it have to do with Joe?"

The older man opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the door opened and along with a chill wind, the object of his question blew in. Joe removed his gun belt and placed it on the credenza. Then he parked his hat and green jacket by the door. When he saw them sitting in the great room, he looked mildly surprised and mightily embarrassed.

"Sorry I'm late, Pa."

Their pa rose to his feet and went over to meet him. "How are you, son?" he asked softly.

For a moment, Joe said nothing. When he saw him looking, he said, "Hey, Jamie."

"Hey, Joe," he replied.

The silence that followed was awful.

Pa stirred at last. "I'll go tell Hop Sing to fix you a plate."

As he turned to leave, Joe caught his arm. "Pa, please. I'd like to talk to you first. And to Jamie. If that's okay."

Pa reached up and cupped Joe's cheek in his hand. He nodded.

Jamie watched them as they came over to the hearth. He had to admit that when he first came to the Ponderosa, he'd been a little jealous of how close the two of them were. He'd loved his own pa, but he'd never known that kind of closeness and he'd longed for it. It didn't take him long to realize that Ben Cartwright had more than enough love to go around. Now, when he saw them together, it just made him realize how lucky he was.

How lucky Joe was.

They all sat down. Joe took a seat on the hearth and stared into the fire for so long they both thought he wasn't going to speak. Then, suddenly, he did.

"I owe you both an apology for today, and for what happened yesterday with Ramsey." He snorted. "Well, for just about everything, really."

Jamie shuddered at the memory of the big man pounding on Joe. He was glad Pa had pressed charges and Abel Ramsey was in jail so he couldn't go after his big brother again.

Pa was shaking his head. "Son, there's no need –"

"Yeah, Pa. There is. I've haven't..." Joe stopped and then started again. "I've only been thinking about myself. I've caused both of you a lot of grief. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, son –"

Joe's temper flared. "No, it's not! I've been sulking like a little kid, like no one in the world ever went through what I've...gone through." He drew a calming breath. "For God's sake, Pa, you lost _three_ wives!"

Pa hesitated. His words were quiet. "But none in the way you lost Alice, Joe. And none of them were carrying my child at the time."

They hesitated to speak of it. Almost like when they did, they were telling Joe something he didn't know.

He did, of course.

Joe's jaw was tight and tears shone in his green eyes. "You lost a child too, Pa," he said quietly.

"And you lost a brother."

Joe sniffed. Then his older brother looked at him. There was a hint of a smile.

"And gained one."

He grinned back.

"You look tired, Joe. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow."

Pa was right. Joe looked all in. He'd lost weight recently and he knew he'd hardly slept at all. Their bedrooms were near to each other and he'd heard him getting up every night and going downstairs. Joe's skin was usually a deep golden color. It was pale now and all pinched around his eyes and lips. Jamie met his brother's gaze. There was something missing in those green eyes.

A kind of light that had gone out.

Joe ran a hand over his face. He smiled in that way he had when he was kind of embarrassed, where one eye winked and his lips curled up at one end.

"I look that bad, huh?"

When Pa said nothing, he piped up. "Just don't go to near the horses, Joe. You know how skittish they are. You might scare them away."

Joe's eyes widened and then took on a look of trouble. Before Jamie knew it, his big brother was over the table and had plowed into him. It took a second to realize Joe wasn't angry, he was just pretendin' to be mad like he used to before...everything. Joe caught him in his arms and they rolled off the sofa and hit the floor. After tumblin' a couple of times, Joe hugged him. He held him for all he was worth. Then, he began to cry. He didn't say nothin'. He just shook.

Jamie hugged his brother back and they sat there, with pa watching, until –completely exhausted – Joe fell asleep in his arms.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Later that night, after he had seen Joseph to bed and sat and talked with him as he had done when his son was a child, Ben Cartwright returned to the great room and his red leather chair and the envelope he'd left laying on the table beside it. He sat down and picked it up, withdrew the letter from inside it elegant housing, and read the lines written on the parchment paper again.

 _Dearest Ben,_

 _I am coming to see you. Please don't tell Joe. I have to come, and I know he would try to stop me if he knew. Don't blame yourself. You didn't reveal his secret. It wasn't what you said in your last letter, but his silence that alerted me to the fact that something is terrible wrong. My little brother and I board the steamship 'City of Chester' tomorrow. It will take a month or so for us to reach the Ponderosa. I wasn't going to write at all, but when Benjamin decided to join me – he's the one named for you – I decided I had best confess. I thought you should know there would be two of us imposing on you instead of one._

 _I can see you face – that slight frown, the way your forehead furrows and the skin crinkles at the corners of your eyes. I know you think me foolish. Most likely I can't do anything to help, but I_ _have_ _to try. I love your son. I have always loved him. The biggest mistake of my life was running from him. No matter what happens, whether Joe accepts me or turns me away, you know I always will._

 _Bella Carnaby Ashton_

Ben ran a hand under his left eye to wipe away the moisture. He was glad Jamie had gone to bed as well. The boy wasn't there to be upset by his tears.

Replacing the letter in the envelope, the older man rose and went to his desk. He opened the drawer where he kept his personal correspondence – the one the boys knew was taboo to rummage through – and placed the envelope inside. Then he went to the front door and stepped out. Ben stood for a moment, looking toward town, and then went and sat in the rocking chair near the door. With winter coming on the old chair that had witnessed so much of his life at this house would soon move inside, but for the moment it remained and held a comfort of its own.

The autumn air was crisp and cool. He found it reminiscent of the last time Bella Carnaby had graced their home with her sweet and ebullient spirit. It was hard to believe it had been eight long years. Harder still to believe that she'd been only eighteen and yet had known she loved his son with a passion that time would not dull. He'd been aware that she was in love with Joseph, but had thought her a child. He'd thought hers was the kind of love a girl in her teens has – a love filled with wild romantic notions and based on physical attraction. At the time be didn't believe it to be the deep, _sure_ kind you needed to marry. Rising, the older man took a few steps away from the house and looked up at his son's window.

He wondered now what Bella's life – what _Joe's_ life – might have been if he had encouraged rather than discouraged them to pursue their feelings.

Ben pursed his lips and shook his head, cutting that line of thought short. What was done was done. It was time to look to the future.

And maybe, just _maybe,_ with Bella's return his son would have one.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe stepped back from the window and dropped the curtain. He'd caught a glimpse of his father outside in the yard and it made his heart sink. Now that he was older and had spent the months he had with Alice thinking about the responsibility of rearing a child, he understood the deep grief he'd caused his father over the years.

Understood the deep grief he was causing him _now._

The curly-haired man went to his bed and dropped onto it and placed his head in his hands. _Why_ couldn't he stop this constant jumble of emotion that had him at the point of tears one moment and angry enough to _kill_ the next? Why was he continually plagued with horrific images when he closed his eyes – Alice standing in the window of their house screaming as she burned, his child running toward him, aflame.

And God damn him, Tanner. Bill Tanner. Always one step behind, always his cast shadow overtaking him.

He'd awakened from more nightmares than he could count a second after Tanner put the nose of his rifle against his head and only a second before the gun went off.

Why? _Why_ was he so weak?

Joe glanced at his dresser. There was a bottle of whiskey there. Pa knew about it and hadn't said anything – letting him fight his own demons, he guessed. He'd thought about drowning his sorrows. He'd done it before and not all that long ago. After the nitroglycerin explosion that blinded him, he 'd thought his life was over. He'd sunk into so deep a melancholia that it seemed to him, at the time, that there was no way out. He hadn't told anyone then, but he had just wanted it to end. He didn't want to go on living if he was impaired; if he could only be a burden to those he loved.

Well, he damn well was a burden to them now.

Lifting his head, Joe turned and looked at the nightstand by his bed. Rising slowly, wearily, he went over to it and opened the drawer and drew out the small amber-colored bottle he had filled at the apothecary before leaving Carson City. He'd asked the man behind the counter about what was in it and been told that the pill was known for its effectiveness to treat cholera, several kinds of pain, and to help distracted persons. Joe snorted.

'Distracted'.

What a polite word for someone who was crazy.

Sitting on the edge of the bed again, Joe opened the bottle and let two of the little blue pills spill into his hand. The trouble was he didn't like what they did to him. They made him nauseous and he was thirsty all the time. Worst of all, he needed to make more than the normal amount of runs to the outhouse, which was mighty hard thing to do when you were a man riding fence-line all day or driving cattle across the land.

On top of all that, just the fact that he needed to take them made him feel like a failure.

With a sigh, he recapped the bottle and returned it to the nightstand. Rising, Joe walked over to the other side of the bed and poured himself a glass of water. He stood there for a moment, staring at the pills. In spite of what he had told the doctor, he'd never taken two at once. He'd figured one was more than enough.

Joe placed the pills on his tongue. He tossed a half glass of water after them, swallowed, and then laid down on his bed fully clothed. Within half an hour, he'd drifted off and passed the entire night in untroubled sleep.

His sleep was untroubled, all right.

It was when he woke in the morning that the nightmare truly began.


	5. Chapter 4

FOUR

Jamie looked over his shoulder at his older brother. It was late October and Joe was standing in a patch of mud left behind by a some early snow that had melted, stringing some of Glidden's new-fangled 15.5 gauge barbed wire along the top of one of the Ponderosa's boundary fences. The roll of wire, partially opened and played out, was laying in a tangled mess at his feet. They'd traveled out about as far as they could go before Joe had chosen a spot to begin. Pa hadn't been too keen on using Glidden's wire on the fence here. He said he thought it seemed right unneighborly, to which Joe had replied that their neighbors weren't going to be the ones trying to jump a fence and rustle cattle. In the end big brother had stormed off to town, bought a bale of it, grabbed him on his way through the yard, and come up here to start putting it out.

Joe'd done a lot of that the last five days.

Storming.

Pa had a couple of words for it. He said everything Joe had been through in the last seven months had left him 'touchy' and 'irritable'. The men were using other words for it. When the redhead had been out with the ranch hands , the words he'd heard whispered behind Joe's back were 'thin-skinned' and 'cantankerous'. The miners said Joe was 'short-fused' and 'volatile', just like dynamite. They all agreed on one word though – _dangerous._

Sooner of later, they said, Joe was gonna get either himself or someone else killed.

Which was why he'd followed Joe today without asking Pa's permission. Jamie knew he'd get it when he got back to the ranch house, but he didn't care. It wasn't safe to leave Joe alone. He knew it.

 _Someone_ had to take care of Joe and since the mysterious Adam and big brother Hoss were gone, it was up to him.

Jamie studied Joe's rigid figure. The older man was standing still, facing the bale of wire and staring at it like it was an enemy. He'd seen him do it before, like he was working out strategies so the wire wouldn't win. It was kind of frustrating. Joe had brought him along to help, but so far he hadn't let him do anything. The teenager glanced at the sky and realized it was about noon.

Maybe if he offered to cook...

"Are you hungry, Joe? I could fix us some grub."

Joe was kneeling by the wire now, straining hard with his gloved hands to unwrap one prickly strand from the other. His jaw was tight and his green eyes narrowed. The muscles in Joe's arms, built up over a lifetime of hard physical labor, rippled in the sunlight. Even though the air was chilly, he was covered with sweat. It bathed the front of his shirt. To someone just walking by, it wouldn't look like anything was wrong, but he knew better. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

Joe was shaking like a man with a fever.

Wincing at the blow of words he expected to get for asking, Jamie moved a little closer. "Joe? Hey, Joe. Are you all right?"

Joe's head came up; that head of silver curls that were shining in the sun. He looked puzzled and then he said his name, "Jamie..."

Almost like he'd forgotten he was there.

Jamie sniffed. It wasn't _fair!_ He wanted his older brother back the way he'd been. The older brother that always had a smile and a joke, who loved to laugh; the brother who had accepted him and taken him under his wing and been so patient to teach him all the things he needed to know to be a part of the Cartwright family.

This man was a stranger.

Jamie took another step. "Joe, let me help. Maybe together we can figure out what's wrong."

For a moment it looked like Joe was considering it.

And then all Hell broke loose.

Joe rose to his feet. He pulled his leather gloves off and threw them to the ground and marched toward him. Stopping several feet away, he growled, " _You_ do it then, if you think _I'm_ so incompetent!"

It took a second before Jamie realized that Joe thought he was complainin' about how long it was taking to get the wire unrolled.

"That's not what I meant. I'm worried –"

Joe flashed him a warning look. He knew enough to heed it. After living with the Cartwrights for near four years, he knew that set of older brother's jaw and the flash in his eye well enough to be aware that fists ususally followed. Jamie stepped back as Joe headed for Cochise and the canteen that hung from the saddle horn.

"Why isn't the food ready?" the older man demanded as he recapped the canteen and turned back toward him.

"I didn't know you wanted me to cook –"

"Well why the hell did you think I brought you out here? You didn't think I was going to trust you with that wire, did you? You're a child."

Every word was meant to hurt. _Every_ one.

Jamie fought back tears as his own temper flared. "Will you just stop it!" he shouted. "What is wrong with you?"

Joe's jaw remained tight. His voice was just as tight – and quiet. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine."

"You keep sayin' that and it just ain't true! " His jaw was tight too, but it was from fighting back tears. "I know it. All the _men_ know it." He paused. "Pa knows it too, Joe, and it's killin' him!"

His brother's eyes were trained on his face. "Don't you mention my pa."

Jamie steeled himself. "I may not have been born a Cartwright, but he's _my_ pa too. Every day, most every time you open your mouth, you hurt him. Can't you see it, Joe? The worry is wearin' him away!"

Something different flashed in the older man's eyes.

Was it fear?

"Well, I'm sorry," Joe snarled, in a tone of voice that said he was anything 'but'. "I'm _sorry_ if you don't like the new 'me', but it's who I am now, so you're just going to have to get used to it. I'm going back to work."

"Can I help?"

"No!" he snapped. "It's too dangerous. You get to cooking!"

"But Joe..."

"I said, 'No!'."

Still fighting back tears, the young man followed his older brother's progress as he headed toward the fencing. Just as Joe bent down to take hold of the barbed wire, he saw Joe's gloves on the ground.

Snatching them from the grass, Jamie barreled toward him, shouting, "Joe! Hey Joe! Don't! You'll get hurt!"

Joe stood up abruptly and took a step toward him. They met about three feet away from the opened bale of wire. Before Jamie knew it, Joe's fingers gripped his shirt. He started shaking him and yelling. Jamie didn't know what was happening, but he knew he was scared as Hell and he had to fight back. When he did, it only enraged Joe more. The redhead saw it coming before it happened.

The awful thing was he could do nothing to stop it.

"Joe! No!"

Joe pivoted, still holding onto him. As he yelled again, screaming, 'I told you to stay away! Don't you ever listen?' his older brother shoved him.

A rat's nest of barbed wire was a mighty hard place to land.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella Carnaby Ashton glanced over at her brother. Ben made her laugh. Due to her connection to the Ponderosa, Ben had spent his young life reading penny dreadful novels and dreaming of the life of a cowboy hero. Maybe it _had_ been a mistake to pass on the books Joe sent to her, she thought as she watched her little brother gawk out the stagecoach window at every cactus that passed by.

Ben was no doubt looking for hidden Indians or highwaymen.

Bella shuddered at the thought. She hadn't taken the stage since that dreadful trip through the Sierras five years before when Fleet Rowse had led a band of Indians to attack it and murdered nearly everyone on the coach. It hadn't been easy, but she'd managed to ride a horse or take a buggy or train since then. Michael had known about her fear and always arranged things so she was able to avoid it. Unfortunately, as they were heading to Virginia City, Nevada from Placerville, California, there was really little choice if they wanted to make good time. She'd done her best to hide her terror from her brother, but she thought he suspected. Ben had taken the seat beside her and was always sure he made physical contact from time to time to let her know he was there. He knew from what she'd told him that this was the same route she had taken all those years ago. Ben kept up an endless line of chatter as well, annoying the preacher and his wife who sat across from them. So far, they were the only other passengers traveling on the coach. More passengers might join them, of course, at one of the upcoming way stations. In fact, they probably would.

Then Ben could irritate them too.

"What are you snickering at?" her little brother asked.

She turned to look at him. Though Benjamin was going on seventeen, she couldn't help but think he was the _cutest_ thing. He had a round face like their ma and the biggest chocolate-brown eyes. His hair wasn't quite as curly as Joe Cartwright's except when it was wet, which it was now because Ben was sweating in the close confines of the coach. The trailing ends of the reddish-brown curls that spiraled down onto his forehead made him look like a Wensleydale sheep.

"You," she fessed up.

Ben was mock indignant. "Well, if you ain't got anything better to do than laugh at a fellow..."

"I'm not laughing," she corrected.

His brown brows popped. "No?"

"No, I'm snickering." Bella reached out to brush one of the errant curls away. "You are just _so_ cute!"

He batted her hand aside. "For Gosh sakes, Bella, you don't tell a grown man he's 'cute'." His eyes flicked to their fellow passengers who were pointedly ignoring them . "I'm almost – "

"Almost seventeen. I know." She stifled another giggle. "You're just ancient!"

His anger was a little less 'mock' now. "And I suppose _you_ are ancient and all-wise at the grand old age of twenty-six?"

It was at that moment that Bella recognized the scenery speeding past. She could see it through the open window behind her brother. The low rise of the hill. The long stretch of open land.

The high ridge made of rock where she had hidden with Little Joe Cartwright and where she thought she had lost him.

Where she thought he had died.

Bella shuddered. She barely swallowed the sob that followed it.

Any trace of annoyance on her brother's face vanished. He took her by the hand. "Bella? What's is it?" Following the trail of her gaze, Benjamin looked over his shoulder and out the window at the passing landscape. When he turned back, his lightly tanned skin had paled a shade. "Was it here?" he asked.

All she could do was nod.

Ben moved closer and slipped his arm around her shoulder. He was quiet a moment and then he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She closed her eyes against the memories, but it didn't helped. Everything was there. The Indians attack. The renegades deadly race to overtake the coach. Men falling; arrows piercing their chests and backs. Seeing Joe stuck with a club. Thinking he'd been mortally wounded.

And the smell. She'd never forget that.

The smell of roasting meat.

Showing unexpected concern, the pastor's wife – who had traveled most of the way with her nose in a copy of the periodical, _The People's Literary Companion_ – asked, her voice soft with worry, "Are you all right, child? Do you need the stage to stop so you can get some fresh air?"

In that moment it dawned on Bella that she might have misjudged the pair. Perhaps their silence had been a way to let her and Benjamin enjoy what was obviously his first trip to the West together and not a judgment on her or her brother.

She shook her head. She knew if she spoke, the words would come out with tears.

Benjamin answered for her. "My sister took this route five years ago. There was an attack on the stage. A lot of people died." He looked at her and smiled. "Bella survived."

As the minister's wife responded, Bella drew in several slow, steadying breaths in an attempt to slow her heartbeat, which was galloping like a racehorse. She smiled at the woman and then turned to her brother. She didn't think it was possible, but he held her even _closer_ as the pastor reached over and closed the curtains on the window.

Ben said she had survived.

Sometimes she wondered if there was any truth in that.

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Joe Cartwright stared in horror at the aftermath of his unreasonable anger. His violent reaction to Jamie's concern had sent the boy directly into the nest of barbed wire that had been created when he unrolled the bale. When he'd shouted for him to keep still, hoping to minimalize the damage, Jamie had fought even harder, his blue eyes wide with fear.

Fear of _him._

He'd been so terrified as he saw the barbs bite into his little brother's skin that he'd dug in and fought to keep the wire away from him. The boy was surrounded by it. It cut into Jamie's back, arms and legs, but even more frightening had been the large portion of it that dangled perilously above the teenager's head. Joe had thrown all caution to the wind as it shifted and began to descend. Regardless of the danger to himself he'd moved in, placing his body above the boy's, and then reached up and taken hold of the menacing metal.

Forgetting that he was no longer wearing his gloves.

They'd both emerged alive, as he knew they would, but their battered and wounded flesh showed they'd been through a battle. His upper left shoulder was deeply gashed and his lower legs were covered with deep, jagged cuts as were his arms. Wherever it struck, the wire had not only pulled the skin away but had driven the cloth and sweat and dirt covering it into his open wounds. Every single gash was hot and crimson with blood and hurt like _hell_.

Jamie was much worse.

Joe ran the back of his bloody arm across his face, driving away tears, mud, and more blood. His little brother's skin was ashen white and clammy to the touch. Jamie's heartbeat was too rapid. The redhead's chest was rising and falling, but the breaths were short, troubled, and came too fast. There was a slight tinge of blue to his lips.

He was in shock.

Joe had done the best he could. He'd managed to untangle himself just as Jamie passed out from the pain. Drawing his thick leather gloves on over hands that looked like something in a meat house, Joe had located the wire cutters and returned to his brother. Taking advantage of Jamie's unconscious state, he'd begun the most onerous part of freeing him, pulling the wire barbs out of the boy's tender skin.

And all the while the tears had flown.

As he worked, Joe's thoughts had gone to Adam, recalling that day when his brother had accidentally shot him while they were hunting a wolf. He remembered Adam's pain and guilt. His never ending remorse. It drove home again to him the fact that _he_ was the older brother now. That _he_ had to be the responsible one.

Joe's eyes moved to the silent form lying on the ground before him.

For the last few weeks he'd been anything _but_ responsible. Somewhere over the last month he'd lost it. He'd behaved in only one of two ways – enraged or unhinged.

He'd kept telling himself it didn't matter. That it didn't effect anyone but him. Jamie's earlier words – so true that they were a spear thrust to his heart – had caused him to go berserk. The moment the anger in him had turned to rage and boiled over, he had become incapable of rational thought. He told himself he didn't realize the boy would fall into the wire, that he hadn't wanted to _hurt_ Jamie.

Joe wet his lips. He struck away more sweat and tears.

Yeah, he kept telling himself that. He had to.

Otherwise, he'd go insane.

It was all Joe could do to rise to his feet and stagger over to where he'd left Jamie lying. He'd bandaged the worst of the boy's wounds the best he could using strips torn from an extra shirt he'd brought in his saddlebag along with other clothes. Jamie had been shivering and so he'd gone and gathered every piece of cloth he could find – their extra shirts, pants, their bedrolls, and even the saddle blankets from their horses – and wrapped the redhead in them to keep him warm. At the last minute he'd rolled one of the saddle blankets up and placed it under the boy's feet. That was after he remembered Doc Martin always told them to elevate a victim's feet to increase circulation.

His main worry for Jamie wasn't the blood loss though, in truth, both of them had lost more than their fair share. It was the threat of infection. While the wire had been clean , the mud he'd been standing in and filthy sweat-soaked cloth they both wore were not.

Some of the cuts on Jamie's skin already looked angry.

Joe looked up at the sky. It was late afternoon. His father would be wondering where they were. The trouble was, he'd been so enraged when he left that he hadn't told anyone what he was doing or where he was going. Pa wouldn't have any idea where to begin the search. In the hopes that it might help, he'd removed Cochise's saddle and slapped his horse's hind-quarters and sent him on his way. When the animal returned home without gear or rider, and with a bloody handprint just above his tail, Pa would understand and send someone out to find them. They still had Jamie's horse. The other one they'd brought along with them – the one attached to the sled that had carried the wire – had spooked and disappeared. He was afraid to go after it and leave Jamie alone, so he'd decided to rig a travois to carry the boy. Joe didn't know how he was going to manage it, given that his hands looked like Hop Sing had taken a meat mallet to them, but he was _damn_ well going to do it. This was his fault.

Whatever pain he experienced, he deserved.

Joe knelt down beside his little brother. Carefully, with his teeth, he tugged the leather glove off his left hand. He would have preferred to leave it on since the tight fit was stifling the blood flow, but he needed to touch Jamie's skin to see if he was developing a fever. From the thin sheen of sweat on his brother's pale freckled face he was pretty sure he was. As crimson blood began to flow between his thumb and forefinger, Joe placed his palm on Jamie's forehead. The boy's fever was low, but it was there.

As Joe removed his hand, Jamie stirred. His brother moaned and his eyes opened. At first they were without focus. Then, they lighted on him. As recognition dawned, Joe saw it.

Terror.

Penitent, he placed his hand on the boy's chest. As he took in the cuts on Jamie's face, the deep gash at his hairline that had bled like a stuck pig, and the wounds he could see on other parts of the boy's lanky frame, Joe sobbed. The words were wrenched out of him.

"Jamie, I am _so_ sorry. I never meant..." He paused. "I _never_ meant for this to happen."

The boy's reddish lashes brushed his pallid cheeks as he fought toward consciousness. Jamie swallowed, winced, and then his blue eyes opened on a world of unendurable pain.

"Joe!" His name came out with a moan. "Joe. God, Joe! It hurts!"

Jamie's left hand was the least effected, so Joe took hold of it and gripped it tight. "Squeeze, Jamie! Squeeze my hand. Give it all you've got! When you can't stand the pain, _squeeze!"_

The boy did as he told him. Joe was somewhat surprised by the strength of his grasp.

"Good! Keep at it!" he commanded, biting back his own pain.

Jamie was looking around, puzzled. "What... What happened?" he asked.

What happened?

God, he wished he knew.

"I...I lost my temper, Jamie. I pushed you. I swear I didn't know the bale of wire was there. I wasn't thinking..."

A small smile – _very_ small – lifted one corner of the boy's lips. "You...ain't been...doin' much of...that lately."

Joe frowned. "What?"

"Thinkin'."

Joe touched the boy's face with his right hand. "I guess I haven't."

"Or...maybe too much. 'Bout...the wrong thing..." Jamie winced and his back arced a bit. When it came back down to earth, he moaned and the light in his eyes dulled.

Joe forced a smile. "You get some sleep, you hear? I'm going to build a travois so I can get you home."

His brother roused a bit as he said that. "No. Hurt..."

"I know it will hurt, buddy, but we have to get you – "

"No." Jamie's voice was firmer. His gaze went to Joe's hand. "Hurt... _you._ You're...hurt...too..."

Joe opened his mouth to tell the boy he was fine, but decided he didn't deserve that. He swallowed once and admitted. "Yeah, I hurt like Hell."

His little brother's lips curled in a small. "Don't...let Pa...hear you talk...like that." Jamie drew a sharp breath as pain shot through him. "He'll wash...your...mouth...with..."

He was out again.

Thank God.

Joe rose wearily to his feet. He'd been pretending _all_ month that everything was fine, that he wasn't out of control; that he could manage whatever was happening to him. It was a lie. Plain and simple. A lie he had been telling to everyone, but mostly to himself.

As the curly-haired man headed for the tree limbs he'd gathered to build the rig with, recent memory took him unawares. He saw himself on the travois Tom Griswold and Ern had built. He was being pulled toward the Griswolds' home. The whole way there he was plagued by delusions. The one that held the most horror for him was that of Hoss aiming a gun at him and pulling the trigger. Joe staggered to a stop and looked back. Wasn't that what he had just done with Jamie? Aimed his anger at him and then pulled the trigger? After that nightmare, he had shied away from his big brother until he was able to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't real. Hoss _wouldn't_ hurt him.

This _was_ real. He _had_ hurt Jamie.

Wouldtheir relationship _ever_ be the same?

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Candy had come to the main house to talk to Joe, only to be told by his friend's father that he hadn't returned and the older man had no idea where he was. As he'd listened to his boss, he'd reached up and fingered the bruise on his chin without thinking and it hadn't taken Mister Cartwright more than two heartbeats to figure out who had put it there. He'd crossed Joe one time to many the day before and his friend had let him have it. He'd tried to pass it off as something that happened during a friendly disagreement – boys will be boys – but the older man would have none of it. Ben Cartwright knew his son was in trouble.

Like they _all_ knew Joe was in trouble.

Worried for his friend, Candy had made a point of running into Doc Martin's new assistant and possible replacement while he was in town the day before. He'd invited the man for a beer and then proceeded to pump him for all the information he had. He'd listed Joe's symptoms from A to Z, starting with the uncontrollable anger and ending with the fact that he'd caught Joe sitting in the barn one day shaking from head to toe and mumbling about things that weren't there. He told the Doc he was afraid his friend was going crazy.

Unfortunately, Julian Corwin agreed.

The young doctor went on to explain that, while the kind of melancholia Joe was suffering from had once been thought as a matter of choice, science had recently proven it to be a 'biomedical disorder' of the emotions and beyond the sufferer's control. Julian said there had been a mental 'reflex' in Joe's mind to all he had gone through. The sensation, he said, passed through the victim's brain without alerting the consciousness. In other words, Joe had no idea of what was going on. It seemed the brain stored up all kinds of images and ideas. When an increasing amount of these 'impressions' were negative – say, being chased down like an animal by a madman or watching your wife and child burn to death – these ideas and images became distorted.

In other words, the brain became diseased.

He'd asked. So far as Doctor Corwin knew there was no cure. Julian said the fact that it had been seven months and Joe was getting worse instead of better was not a good sign.

Corwin recommended an asylum.

Ben Cartwright cleared his throat. Candy'd almost forgotten the older man had asked him a question – his boss had asked him what he thought they should do about Joe.

He _sure_ wasn't about to give him Doctor Corwin's answer.

Candy shrugged. "Some men carry grudges for decades. No one thinks anything about that. It's only been a little over half a year. I say we give Joe more time."

The older man sighed. "I'm not sure how much more time I can give Joseph. His behavior is disrupting not only this household, but the business of the ranch. I've had half a dozen men in here in the last five days telling me they will no longer work with him."

Must have been the new ones. The old hands, like him, were worried sick about Joe.

Candy ran fingers over his stubbled chin. "I suppose you've tried talking to him?"

"Tried and failed." Joe's father paused. He got a wistful look in his eyes. "It's times like these that I miss Joseph's brothers the most. Adam would have given him a strong talking to and Hoss..." He paused. "Hoss would have simply been there for him."

Candy nodded. He missed the big man too.

"It seems like Joe gets along well with Jamie. Maybe he could talk to him," Candy suggested with a smile. It was fun watching the two of them together.

Well, it had been until lately.

"The trouble with Jamie is that Joseph has to be the strong one, the one who has all the answers." His boss went to the door and put his hand to the latch. Apparently he'd made the decision to go after his sons. "Right now I don't think Joseph has any answers for his little brother _or_ for himself."

"It's gettin' cold out there," Candy warned as the door opened "You might want to put on a coat..." The foreman's voice trailed off as the older man stiffened and then shot outside. He didn't know what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn't what he saw.

Joe's horse was standing in the yard. Cochise's saddle was missing. Well, actually everything was missing including his rider.

Candy went to join Ben Cartwright where he stood at the animal's side.

The older man shot him a look. "Something's wrong."

It didn't take much to figure that out. "I'll get some of the hands and we'll form a search party."

The white-haired man had moved. "Candy," he called softly.

Joe's father stood to the rear of the animal and he was pale as the day. His boss nodded him over and when Candy looked, he saw why.

Above Cochise's tail there was a handprint stamped in blood.

Ben Cartwright's look was grim.

"Better make it fast."


	6. Chapter 5

Doubt That The Stars Are Fire

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PART TWO

ooooooooooo

FIVE

Bella had never been so glad to set her foot down on solid ground as she was when she stepped out of the coach and onto the boardwalk at the stage depot in Virginia City. The minister and his wife, Mister and Mrs. Watson, agreed. In the end the pair turned out to be just about as nice as nice could be. Samuel explained that they were returning to the town after a short absence to resume the post he had held for some six months. They knew the Cartwrights well since theirs was the church the family attended. When she mentioned Joe by name, Emma Watson shook her head and grew sad. The older woman told her that she and her husband had come to Virginia City just after the tragedy and had witnessed the heartbreaking aftermath of Alice Cartwright's death. The whole town had been stunned. She hadn't known Alice personally, she said, but everyone had told her that the young woman had been sweet and beautiful and completely devoted to Joe. God had given her an upright and honest young man to marry, Samuel remarked. Unfortunately, Alice had been less blessed in her relatives. Her brother had been a shiftless ne'er-do-well and it had been his excess and weakness of character that had brought about Mrs. Cartwright's untimely end.

Benjamin was standing beside her gawking. Her little brother had hopped out of the coach as soon as it rolled to a stop, his deep brown eyes wide with wonder. While they'd passed through a number of Wild West towns, none of them had come close to being as impressive as Virginia City. Bella watched with amusement as Ben took in the numerous shops and saloons before his eyes settled on the sheriff's office. He stared at it as if – at any minute – he expected some desperado to come flying out of the door, guns blazing to make good his escape.

Instead, the brown-haired man she had known as Roy Coffee's deputy opened the door and came out stretching as if he had just awakened from a nap. Clem scratched the back of his neck and then ambled over toward the coach. In one of his earlier letters Ben Cartwright had mentioned that Roy might retire. From the sheriff's badge on Clem's vest, it looked like he had.

Clem tipped his hat. "Mister and Mrs. Warson," he said, looking past her to the minister and his wife. After nodding to them, he turned his attention to her and her brother. "Ma'am, welcome to Virginia City."

Bella couldn't help it. She giggled. "Hello Clem. It's nice to see you again."

The blue-eyed man frowned as he looked from her to Benjamin and back. "I apologize, ma'am, if we've met. I don't seem to..."

She held her hand out. "Bella. Bella Carnaby Ashton."

Clem looked like someone had struck him. "Bella? _Little_ Bella?"

They hadn't had a lot to do with each other, but they'd met once or twice in the months she'd spent with the Cartwrights. "So you're sheriff now?" she asked.

He nodded. His eyes went to Benjamin again. There was puzzlement in them. "And you're... _Mister_ Ashton?"

This time she laughed out loud. "This is my brother, Benjamin Joseph." As Ben nodded in greeting, she sobered. "My husband's name was Michael Ashton. He died recently."

Clem removed his hat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Ma'am."

"Oh, for gosh sakes! Call me Bella," she said. The blonde woman glanced at the mercantile and then her gaze traveled over to the saloon. She tried to sound only casually interested as she asked, "So have you seen Little Joe lately?"

The sheriff snorted. " _Little_ Joe? I bet you're the only one can get by calling him that now." Clem had been smiling, but he sobered too. "Joe was in town last week. It's been, maybe, four or five days."

Relief flooded through her. Joe had been in town and he'd been all right! Still, from the sound of Clem's voice, it seemed the encounter had not been a pleasant one. Bella waited for Clem to elaborate. When he didn't, she decided to drop it.

She'd know soon enough.

"Benjamin and I need to get to the Ponderosa. Where would you recommend we hire a rig?"

Clem returned his hat to his head. "Well, seeing how it's Sunday, I don't know that you're going to find anything. You'll need to wait until the livery opens tomorrow morning. You could stay at the International House tonight."

She didn't want to stay in town. She wanted to get to the Ponderosa as soon as possible. Benjamin, on the other hand, seemed to perk up.

"Is that a saloon?" he asked innocently.

Clem shot her a look. A _pitying_ look. "No, son, it's a hotel. It does have a dining room and bar, but from the look and size of you – unless you want to visit my jail in an official capacity – I think maybe you should give the bar a wide berth."

Benjamin flushed red up to his ears.

She took her brother's hand. "I'll see that Ben stays in out of mischief, Sheriff Foster."

"Clem's fine, Bella." He eyed her brother warily, as if he wasn't sure she could do what she promised. "For both of you."

The driver was tossing their luggage to the ground. As her brother went to retrieve it, Bella offered the sheriff her hand. "Thank you, Clem," she said as he shook it. "It was nice to be greeted by a familiar face." As the brown-haired man nodded and moved to talk to the Reverend Watson, she turned to her brother and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"As a grizzly!" Ben replied.

Bella shook her head. Ben was _always_ hungry as a grizzly. Even though Benjamin was slender as Joe had been at eighteen, he had Hoss' appetite.

Thinking of the big man, Bella grew sad. Benjamin would never get to meet Hoss and she would _so_ miss his gentle, loving presence. She couldn't imagine how devastated everyone in the Cartwright household had been by his sudden passing.

Especially Joe.

"Bella."

She turned to find Clem approaching her.

"Yes?"

He nodded toward a horse and rider racing into town. She didn't know who the man was. He sat tall in the saddle and looked like he might have been over six feet in height. He had wavy light-brown hair cut short and wore a black hat, vest, and pants, and a deep wine-red shirt. There was a black kerchief around his neck as well. He reined his horse in, vaulted out of the saddle, and began to run.

Turning back to Clem, she asked, "Who is that?"

"That's Candy Canaday," he said. "Foreman at the Ponderosa."

A chill snaked along her spine. "What do you think he's doing?" she asked. "Why is he in such a rush?"

Clem said nothing. He merely nodded again.

She looked. Candy Canaday had reached his destination. The door banged shut behind him as he went inside, setting the shingle hanging above it swinging.

The shingle with Doctor J. P. Martin's name on it.

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Ben Cartwright sank wearily into his red chair in the great room. He was completely and totally exhausted. Nearly a day had passed since Joe's horse had come into the yard unsaddled and alone. He'd fed and watered the animal and then, along with Candy and a handful of the ranch hands, begun to backtrack along the path Cochise had taken to reach the house. There were no surprises so far as that was concerned. Joe's pinto knew his way home and he'd made a beeline for it. The fact that he was unsaddled gave the older man some small hope in spite of the dried blood he'd found on the animal's hide. Joe was all right, he told himself. After all, his son would have to have been on his feet to remove all the heavy gear and send Cochise running.

He didn't want to consider the other option, that Joe and Jamie had been waylaid by outlaws and robbed, and Cochise had somehow managed to escape.

They'd started out as early afternoon turned to late, with only a few hours of light left to search by. It hadn't taken him long to figure out where Joe had going. His defiant son had obviously bought some of that new-fangled barbed wire he was so all-fired up about and headed out to one of the boundary fences to put it in place. Still, in spite of the fact that Ben was sure he knew where his son was, he and the other men were forced to make camp as night fell and they found they could no longer see.

Every sleepless hour was agony.

Ben knew that under normal circumstances Joe could take care of himself and his younger brother. But circumstances now with Joseph were about as far from normal as could be. On the ride out, the older man had managed to drill Candy and what his foreman told him was chilling. Even though it had come from Paul's new assistant, he couldn't manage to dismiss it entirely. It wasn't that he didn't like Julian Corwin. He was a fine young man, it was just that he lacked experience. His head was full of all the latest unproven medical theories and techniques from abroad. Having Julian make a diagnosis as opposed to Paul Martin would have been tantamount to trusting a man who had only _read_ about the procedure to castrate one of his prize steers. Paul knew his son. The older man knew all Joe had overcome. Julian, on the other hand, had known Joe less than seven months. Candy hadn't come out and said it point-blank, but Doctor Corwin thought Joseph was a danger to both them and himself and needed to be... Ben drew in a sharp breath.

Joseph needed to be locked up.

Of course, he would never do that. Not even if what Corwin believed was true. He had lived over sixty years on this earth and firmly believed there was _nothing_ that love and compassion couldn't overcome.

Throughout the morning, Candy had ridden at his side lending his silent support. His foreman was a good man and a loyal friend to Joe. He couldn't have asked for a better man to ride at his son's side now that his brothers no longer could. Candy was struggling with the doctor's prognosis. His main concern wasn't that Joseph was losing his mind, but that his friend might hurt himself deliberately. Paul Martin had expressed the same concern the night Alice died. The physician had brought _him_ the bottle of laudanum he'd used to ease the pain of Joe's burns for fear his son might take all of it at once.

Ben let out a long, low sigh and shifted in his chair. Much as he wanted to, he simply couldn't ignore the possibility that both men were right. Joseph Francis Cartwright had a will to live that was unlike any other man he had known. It had brought the youngest of his three sons through illness and injury that would have laid most men in the grave. Joe's mother had been driven by the same zest for life. It had carried her through until the accident where her body was broken so badly sheer will alone had not been enough.

Unlike his mother, Joseph's body was not broken.

It was his soul.

Ben shifted again, restless. A moment later, as if on cue, Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and to his side. He looked up at the man from China and favored him with a half-smile, which was about all he could muster at the moment.

"Is there something I can do for you, Hop Sing?" the older man asked.

"Mistah Cartwright ready for food now?"

No, he wasn't. But eating was Paul's prerequisite for being allowed back in the room where his sons lay.

Ben's nod was less than enthusiastic.

"I bring it right away," his cook said. Before he left, Hop Sing placed a hand on his shoulder, lending his silent support. The gesture took no more than two or three seconds, but it was what he needed.

"Thank you," he said, holding back the tears. "Thank you, old friend, for everything."

Hop Sing had gone with them in search of Joe and Jamie. At the last minute, as he and Candy prepared to set out, the man from China had appeared, medical salves and bandages in hand. Without speaking a word he'd taken a seat in the wagon and looked at them, waiting for their cue. Hop Sing's sometimes almost supernatural perception where Joseph was concerned was something he didn't question. His old friend had known Joseph nearly as long as he had and, in some ways, was probably closer to the boy as they had spent so much time together after Marie died.

He felt no jealousy because of it, just gratitude.

Ben turned toward the fire. As he stared into it, he scowled. He wished now that he hadn't argued with Joseph about using that different type of barbed wire along the boundaries of the ranch. It had seemed to him that it would injure as many animals as it would save. They'd used barbed wire before, but this was the new improved 5.5 gauge patented only that year. No one on the range had much experience with it and to him it looked deadly. Joe had vehemently disagreed and had apparently gone to town without his permission to get the wire and set out to prove him wrong. Somewhere along the line he'd picked up Jamie, who had most likely been eager to go with the big brother he adored. Jamie was having a hard time understanding what Joe was going through. Most likely the boy had thought he could talk to him.

It had been noon by the time they neared the stretch of land that led to the farthest boundary of Ponderosa land. The autumn sun was riding high in the sky. He and Candy had pulled ahead of the others who were beginning to tire of the search and lagged behind. He'd turned back to hasten them onwards when Candy's shout spun him in the saddle.

Something was laying at the bottom of the ravine to the right of the road.

Ben had scrambled off his horse and made it down the steep bank quicker than the younger man. It took only a moment to recognize the sled they sometimes used to haul bale wire and the dead horse beside it.

Candy followed him. When it became obvious that neither Joe or Jamie were trapped beneath the broken vehicle and animal, his foreman had walked a few hundred feet in both directions to make sure they hadn't wandered off. Ben felt a weight lift off his shoulders with Candy's return. Still, his relief lasted only seconds.

He still had to find his sons.

The fire in the great room cracked, drawing Ben Cartwright back to the present. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

He would never forget the moment when he did.

He'd been the one to spot Jamie's horse standing at the side of the road munching on some grass. Dismounting, he'd approached the animal and it was then that he saw his son Joseph lying on the ground beside it. Ben had barely had time to get over the shock of the blood that coated his son's arms and face when he saw the travois and Jamie laying on it.

The boy was barely recognizable.

Candy set off without a word to get Paul Martin. Hop Sing had done what he could to treat and bandage the boys' wounds and then they had set off for home, carrying both Joseph and Jamie in the wagon. Both were unconscious. Fear had gripped his innards as they traveled. It looked bad. But God chose to be merciful. As they got to the road that connected to several of the outlying spreads, they heard the jingle of a harness and suddenly a buggy appeared. Coming down a different trail than the one Candy had taken was Paul Martin. The physician was returning to town after delivering a baby.

Glancing at the stairs, Ben let the tears fall.

It had been an answer to prayer.

"Mistah Ben eat now," Hop Sing said softly as he placed a tray on the table. "I bring soup and bread. Not too much for worried father."

He looked up. "Thank you, old friend."

"You want Hop Sing sit with you while you eat?"

Ben considered it as his eyes returned to the stair. "If you would. Hop sing, go up and see if you can get Paul to tell you anything."

Both his boys were in Joe's room. Paul said it would be too much for him to run back and forth and, as they both needed the same care, it was just as well they keep them together until he had them stabilized. His old friend rarely cursed, but he had done so when he saw what the barbed wire had done to them both.

Ben closed his eyes, sickened.

He had cursed as well when he had seen it.

"Hop Sing go now," the man from China said and disappeared up the stairs.

Ben didn't know how he did it, but somehow he choked the soup and bread down. Just as he finished he heard footsteps on the stairs. He expected Hop Sing and was surprised to find that it was Paul Martin who approached. The doctor looked exhausted.

He said nothing as Paul moved to the settee and dropped onto it. The physician's eyes looked haunted.

"That was worse than anything I could have encountered on a battlefield," his old friend said softly.

Ben's jaw tightened. "How are they?"

Paul ran a hand over his face. "Jamie's cuts are showing less infection than Joe's. I'm afraid when Joe fell, dirt and debris must have been driven into them. They both have fevers." The doctor's gaze sought his and held it. "If I was you, Ben, I'd send some of the hands out for ice just in case."

"You think their fevers will go that high?"

"Joe's will. Maybe Jamie's. Some of those cuts are deep, Ben. Very deep. The ones you saw on Jamie's face and chest are nothing compared to his back. Its looks like he landed hard on the stuff."

"And Joe?"

Paul Martin hesitated. "It's his shoulder that's the worst. The infection's a concern, but...there's more." His old friend paused as if considering his words. When Paul spoke at last, sympathy shone from his eyes. "There's hope. This kind of accident rarely proves fatal."

Ben blinked. "Fatal? I thought you said earlier – "

"I know what I said." Paul Martin sank back against the padded sofa. "Ben, the problem is, Joe has given up." He held a hand up to silence his protests. "You know I have seen that young man through just about everything – gun shot wounds, perilous fevers, broken bones, and just about every kind of emotional trauma there is. Every time there was something there – a spark of life that refused to dim." The doctor pinned him with a sympathetic stare. "It's gone out."

Ben shifted forward, ready for a fight. "No. I refuse to believe that!"

"Ben." His old friend continued to hold his gaze. "I think Joe's been through more than he can bear. We all have a limit. He's reached his."

He felt betrayed.

"So you're giving up? You're just going to let me son _die?"_

"Now Ben, you know I don't mean that. I will do everything I can to save him, but Joe has to help me! He has to _want_ to live and right now, I don't think he does."

Ben fell silent as his mind grappled with what the doctor had said. If it was true, there could be only one explanation.

Joe must feel responsible for what happened to Jamie.

"Can you tell what happened – how the boys were wounded – from their injuries?" he asked at last.

Paul leaned forward. His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he were analyzing it again. "Not really. It seems Jamie became entwined somehow in the wire. Joe's injuries suggest he was not _in_ it, but trying to pull Jamie out of it. The deep cuts are mostly on the one shoulder and Joe's arms, though there are superficial ones on his legs and lower torso as well." The doctor shook his head. "That wire, while it may be a miracle for protecting land, is a misery when it comes to a man tangling with it."

"And the infection comes from the mud and other debris being driven into the wounds?"

"As well as the fact that a man is not meant to have metal in him." Paul scowled. He looked up the stairs and his anger eased. "Thank God for Hop Sing and his Chinese remedies. I've seen before how they help wounds close quickly. By tonight, hopefully all the bleeding will have stopped."

Ben paused. "Is Joe awake?"

The physician scowled. "I suppose you want to talk to him?"

He could tell Paul did not approve.

"If I could."

Paul Martin regarded him with a clinical eye. "I don't think it's wise while Jamie and Joe share the same room. Once Hop Sing is done putting on the salve and binding the worst of the cuts, we'll see about moving Joe into another room. Then, _if_ he's willing, you can talk to him." His old friend looked directly at him. "You need to understand this Ben. I won't have Joe upset any more than he already is. He needs support, not a father's scolding." The older man hesitated and then added in a quiet voice, "Really, I think what Joe needs most of all is absolution."

Ben frowned. "Absolution? For what?"

The doctor sighed. "For not being fast enough or strong enough or brave enough, or any of the other things he thinks he wasn't that allowed Alice to be murdered and William Tanner to do what he did to him. For not taking it on the chin and bouncing back. For not being the kind of man he thinks he needs to be."

Ben sensed something unspoken. "What are you trying to tell me, Paul?"

The doctor rose and came to his side. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "You cast a mighty big shadow, Ben. Joe compares himself to you – to the man who buried three wives and a son and remained unbroken – and finds himself lacking."

He shook his head. "Paul, no."

"Yes. Just remember, it has nothing to do with you and _everything_ to do with Joe."

He felt as if he had been struck.

"Do you think I can help him?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"It may not be you, Ben. If it's not, the good Lord willing, He will send someone who _can_ get through to him. Someone who can bring the old Joe back." Paul looked up the stairs and added sadly, "All we can do is pray He sends them soon."

Paul left him then to return to the sick room from which Ben found himself banished. Everything that was in him wanted to be in that room with his older and younger sons, but he knew, at the moment, he would only be in the way. If there was anyone he would have trusted to do all they could to care for them, it was the two men who were with Jamie and Joe. Paul's love for the youngest of his three, for Joe – whom it seemed had spent more time in Paul's office than he had in school – was deep. And as he had come to know his quiet, reticent adopted son, the doctor had grown to love Jamie as well. Paul knew the joy the boy continued to bring into their lives after Hoss' unexpected death.

As to Hop Sing, well, there were no words.

Ben rose to his feet. Bending down, he picked up the tray that lay on the table with what remained of the bread and his empty soup bowl. He had just headed for the kitchen when the door burst open and Candy rushed in.

"Mister Cartwright! Mister Cartwright!"

He pivoted back, concerned. "Candy, what's wrong?"

His foreman was out of breath. "I came as soon as I could. Doc Martin wasn't in his office. I rode out to the Manners' place where he was supposed to be, but they said he'd left. I – "

"Candy. Candy, it's all right," Ben said as he approached the other man. "We ran into Doc Martin on the way back. He's upstairs with Jamie and Joe right now. So is Hop Sing."

Candy's relief was palpable. "The Doc's here?"

"Yes."

The brown-haired man turned his attention to the stairs. "How's Joe? And Jamie?"

Ben suspected Joe's friend knew his answer was only a portion of the truth. "Both are holding their own. Joe has fewer wounds than Jamie, though some of them are deep and infected. Paul expects their fevers to rise."

As he spoke the older man heard the sound of a rig rolling into the yard. The door stood open and a glance over Candy's shoulder showed him it was the kind you could rent in town.

His eyes went to Candy. The foreman didn't seem surprised.

"You've got visitors, Mister Cartwright," he said.

Ben pushed past the man and stepped out into the yard. A young man had hopped out of the buggy and was rounding it, headed for the other side. The sight of him took the older man back. The boy was about Joe's height and reminded him of his youngest when he'd been in his teens. Whoever it was, was slender and had a thick head of curly hair, only its color was a deep auburn instead of brown. The boy glanced at him before offering his hand to someone in the buggy. As she stepped down, Ben saw it was a woman – a young blonde woman wearing a pretty teal blue dress. A second later, she turned toward the house and lifted her head. Her blue eyes went to Joe's bedroom window.

Ben drew a sharp breath as he recognized her. God did _indeed_ answer prayers.

It was Bella.


	7. Chapter 6

SIX

 _Joe._

 _Joe. Are you awake?_

 _He stirred and then smiled as a slender arm wrapped around his waist and he felt the touch of a soft chin on his shoulder._

 _Nuh-uh._

 _Laughter, clear as a bell and joyful as a lark's, sounded near his ear. A second later he felt a gentle nip._

 _You told me to get you up, remember? You have to go to town for supplies. That nursery isn't going to build itself._

 _He rolled onto his back and looked at his beautiful wife. Alice's chemise had fallen off one shoulder and the exposed skin glistened like white alabaster in the sun. Joe lifted his head to kiss it and then snorted as she playfully batted him away._

 _One baby at a time, she teased._

 _Joe caught her wrist. She was too close to her time to be intimate, but not too close to kiss with passion._

 _Come here._

 _Alice pulled away. Her hand was so tiny, it slipped right through his larger tanned and calloused fingers._

 _I can't, she said, her mood shifting. There are things to do._

 _Joe watched her walk across their bedroom. The light spilling in the curtains struck her slender form, showing her legs through the thin fabric of her chemise, as well as enhancing the bump at her waistline that was their child._

 _Like what? he asked as he rolled to one side so he could watch her._

 _She walked to the window and looked out. One hand was on her belly and the other held back the curtain._

 _Cook. Clean. Come. Go._

 _She looked right at him._

 _Die._

 _The house was on fire. He was outside, banging on the door, screaming. Alice was in that same window, her hair on fire, her clothes ablaze; the child in her arms turning to ash._

 _He couldn't stand it. The sight was too much to bear, so he turned away. He turned away only to be confronted by William Tanner. The madman smiled at him and raised his gun._

 _I told you that you'd want to kill me, Joe. Didn't I? But you know what? I was wrong. It ain't me you killed. It's him._

 _Joe closed his eyes. He wouldn't look because he knew what he would see. Still, he didn't have to see. He knew that voice._

 _It was Jamie._

 _Why'd you do it, Joe? What'd you wanta go and kill me for?_

 _Why didn't you just kill yourself?_

With a gasp, Joe struggled to sit up. He was panting hard. The vision wouldn't go away. Like a pair of malignant hands, the images of his dead wife, of Tanner, of...Jamie tore into his gut, twisting and wrenching, bringing such pain that he was driven back to the bed with a sob.

God! Take it away!

God! Take _me_ away! Let me go back to oblivion!

God, please...

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella Carnaby Ashton watched in horror as the man she loved thrashed from side to side, twisting the wet sheets that covered him and thrusting them aside as if he meant to rise. She glanced at the door. At the moment she was alone with Joe in what had been his brother Adam's room. His father had been there, but the poor man had been falling asleep on his feet and about an hour before she had ordered – Bella smiled in spite of her fear – she had _ordered_ Mister Ben to bed. Hop Sing had made an appearance a moment later to let her know how pleased he was that she had come. The Chinese man promised her he would make sure her brother Benjamin got something to eat and was shown to his room.

The blonde woman frowned as she recalled the welcome they had received. Ben Cartwright had met them in the yard. She'd been so pleased to see him, but had noticed immediately that something was wrong.

Dreadfully wrong.

His embrace was fierce and, when the older man pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. The sight of them terrified her.

Where was Joe? Was he all right?

Her questions were answered a moment later by a long, low howl. It was the sound of a wounded animal.

Or a broken man.

Her eyes had returned to Joe's window and then to the older man. A tear trailed down his cheek. Ben Cartwright said nothing. No, that wasn't right. He shook his head.

That said it all.

With a quick glance at her brother, she had flown into the house and up the stairs, passed by Doctor Martin who was just stepping into the hall, and gone to the room she knew so well. Flashes of the visit she had made when she was eighteen came to her – the night Fleet Rowse kidnapped her, Joe coming to her rescue and being hurt, her fear that he had died and her unbelief when she was told that he hadn't. She'd been so afraid that everyone was lying to her that she had stolen into his room and laid beside him and placed her head on his chest just so she could hear his heartbeat.

So she knew he was _alive._

Paul Martin caught her by the shoulders before she could enter. He tried to warn her.

 _Nothing_ could have warned her.

Paul had preceded her into the room. He'd gone to Joe's bed and sat beside him and, using brute force, pinned him down. 'Joseph!' he shouted. 'It's Paul. You're home. Jamie is home. He's alive. Joe, hear me. Joe!'

She'd watched those green eyes open.

She hadn't known the tortured spirit that looked out of them.

This morning Joe had been moved to another room, the one that had been Adam's. Ben had spent the night with him but now it was her turn. Bella reached out a hand and placed it on the forehead of the man she loved, hoping that contact would calm him but doubtful that it would. Joe was no longer trying to rise – it seemed the previous effort had worn him out – but he twisted and turned, murmuring words so low she couldn't understand them. She'd been astonished when she first saw him. In her memory, it was a boy she loved. This was a man. Joe's skin gleamed with sweat, defining the well-developed muscles in his arms and chest. His face was fuller, and his hair! It was all she could do not to laugh as she reached out to touch one of the shining curls. There was brown in it still, but where before there had been streaks of silver, now the silver reigned overall. Looking at him she was struck suddenly by the eight years that separated them. They had both aged. Both changed.

Both been wounded deeply.

Was it possible they might still have anything together?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bella leaned forward and took Joe's face in her hands, careful to avoid any of the cuts the wire had inflicted. He was pale and his hair was soaked through with sweat. So far they had only used wet blankets to try to cool his fever. It was higher now, she could tell. She should probably call the doctor.

Bella gasped.

Joe had reached up and caught her hand in his. It was swathed in thick bandages. He fumbled and almost lost his grip, but then recovered. Staring at her but not seeing her, he pulled her fingers to his lips.

"...here..." he murmured.

She cupped his cheek with her free hand. "Yes, Joe. I'm here."

He frowned, focusing . "...thought you...were...gone..."

"I was," she replied. "I came back."

He tried to lift his hand. He couldn't, so she took it and held it to her face.

Joe smiled.

"Alice..."

Bella choked back tears as Joe's hand went limp. When she released it, his arm fell to the bed.

She was surprised when another hand fell on her shoulder. Turning, she looked up into Ben Cartwright's face.

"I couldn't sleep," he said as he moved past her to touch his son's forehead.

"He's very hot," she sniffed. "I think his fever is higher."

The older man looked troubled. He nodded. "I'll stay with him," he said. "If you would go get Paul..."

Bella nodded as she rose. She made it to the door before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry," the older man said.

She was still sniffing. It kind of helped to keep the tears from falling. "For what?"

"I know how hard this has to be for you."

She'd shared a lot in her letters. She hadn't put it into words, but she knew Joe's father was aware of the fact that she had never stopped loving his son. What she didn't know, was whether Joe had stopped loving her. He'd married Alice. She knew him well enough to know that meant Joe loved her deeply – more deeply than she had loved Michael. There had been no parents to save, no house to find, nothing that had _made_ him marry her.

Only love.

"I'm fine," she lied.

The older man smiled wanly as he dipped the cloth he held in the water basin beside the bed and placed it on Joe's forehead. She noticed how Joe had quieted at his pa's touch and not at hers.

"Fine?" he repeated.

She knew she hadn't fooled him.

"After you send Paul in, why don't you go check on your brother?" Ben suggested. "The last time I saw him he was wandering around the great room looking like a lost soul."

Benjamin! Poor lamb! She'd forgotten completely about him.

As Joe's father lifted the cloth and ran it through the cold water again, Bella hurried into the hall. She checked Joe's old room to see if the doctor was there and found Hop Sing sitting with Jamie. There wasn't much showing of him. Only a head of near carrot-red hair sticking out above the covers and one arm that wasn't bandaged, but showed the cut of the wire. Hop Sing smiled at her and rose to his feet and came to the door.

"Can Hop Sing help Missy Bella?"

She almost melted. Bella remembered the Chinese man's kindness and longed to fall into it.

But she had things to do.

Her eyes went to the bed. "How is Jamie doing?" she asked.

"Boy's fever is down. Doctor Martin believes cuts are clean and he heal fast." Hop Sing turned and looked at the bed. "Boy is young and strong."

Young. She'd been young once.

She felt very old now.

Hop Sing must have seen the look on her face. He touched her arm. "Mistah Joe need Missy Bella bad," he said.

She shook her head. "He doesn't need me. He has his father. Joe has – "

His fingers tightened on her flesh. "No. Mistah Joe need _you."_

The muscles in her face tightened. She drew a breath in and snorted it out. Hop Sing watched her, his black eyes never leaving her face.

"Mistah Joe love Missy Alice," he said as he touched his chest above his heart, "but love Missy Bella too. Here. He keep her here, waiting for her to come back."

That did it. She started sobbing.

As Hop Sing put his arm around her, she said, "I have to go. I have to find the doctor."

"I'm here," a kindly voice said. She looked up to see Paul Martin stepping into the room. "I heard you were here, Bella. Thank goodness! Joe needs someone to hang onto."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she said, "Mister Ben is with him. He said to tell you to come. Joe's fever is higher."

She didn't like the look on his face. The doctor nodded and then was gone.

Bella allowed Hop Sing to lead her over to a chair by one of the upstairs windows. He sat her in it and then went and got her a cool cloth so she could wipe off her face. As she did, he sat on another chair beside her.

"May Hop Sing tell you a story, Missy Bella?"

She shrugged.

"Good." The Chinese man took her hand and pressed it between his own. "Boy once find marble," he said as he nodded to the sky outside the window, "big, blue and white marble that look like world outside. He pay _all_ he has for this marble, he love marble _so_ much." Hop Sing frowned. "Then, one day, marble is lost. Boy cry much. He search much, but cannot find. In time, he find other marble just as beautiful and he happy again. He play with it and love it much too." The Chinese man looked right at her. "But boy never forget _first_ marble. Never forget first love that was his world."

The room was so still she could hear the tall case clock ticking in the hall below.

"Mistah Joe love Missy Bella. She _his_ first love."

Her tears flowed freely now. Hop Sing released her hand, rose, and walked into Joe's bedroom. He returned a moment later with a fresh handkerchief and held it out to her. She took it. It smelled of bay rum.

Bella sniffed again and began to bawl.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"How is he?" Candy asked quietly. He'd come to Joe's room and had not been encouraged to find his friend wrapped in ice-covered sheets. The day was over now and he'd come back to check on his friend before heading to the bunkhouse. At least the ice was gone.

Ben Cartwright turned eyes bleary with worry and a lack of sleep on him.

"The fever broke at last, about an hour before dusk." The older man leaned over and placed a hand on his son's head. "He's much cooler now."

"So how's the Doc think he is?" he asked anxiously. Joe was pale. _Really_ pale.

The older man rose to his feet. "Physically? Paul says he's out of danger. As to everything else...time will tell." His boss came to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Will you stay with him for a few minutes in case he wakes?" As he nodded his assent, the older man added, "I've been forced to neglect Jamie. Now that the crisis has passed with Joseph, I need to be with him."

"If you don't mind my sayin' so, you need some sleep, sir," Candy replied.

His boss ran a hand across his stubbled chin. "And a shave!" he said. "But both will wait until I know the boy is through the worst of it. Thank God his fever didn't rise like Joe's. I don't know what I would have done if they'd both needed me at the same time."

He'd checked in on Jamie. Paul Martin was there. The Doc had the boy heavily sedated, but seemed to think he would be just fine given time.

Candy's eyes flicked to Joe. He hoped the same could be said for his friend.

"Sure, I'll stay. Be happy to."

"Come and get me if Joe comes around."

The brown-haired man watched as his boss made his way out of the room and then went to sit beside the bed. He remained still for a few minutes and then shifted. He hated to admit it but he was a bit uncomfortable. Not with Joe, but with his own feelings.

Normally he didn't like to admit he had any.

He'd been sitting there maybe ten minutes when he looked over at Joe and found he was awake and watching him. He'd started to rise, to go get Mister Cartwright, when his friend said, 'Don't.'

Just, 'don't'.

"You're gonna get me in trouble with the boss," Candy said as he sat back down.

"That's okay," Joe rasped. "I got...pull."

Candy frowned as Joe licked his lips. A second later he went for the water pitcher and cup on the bedside table. "Just pretend I'm your pa," he said as he reached around Joe, placing his arm around his bare chest and lifting him a bit so he could take a drink. "Otherwise this is going to be embarrassing."

"...Ma..." Joe replied with a shadow of a smile as he laid his head back.

Candy snorted. "Now that _is_ embarrassing!" After placing the cup on the stand, Candy sat back down. For a moment, he considered his friend. Joe looked like Hell. Of course, he had every right to after taking on a bale of 5.5 bale wire single-handed.

"Hey, Joe. What happened out there? Did something go wrong with the bale?"

Joe was silent for some time. Finally, in a voice he could hardly hear, his friend said, " _I_...went wrong."

"So the kid irritated you, huh?" he asked, trying to lighten things a bit.

Joe's gaze was intense. "Jamie?" he asked.

"Doc says he'll be fine. And in case you care, so will you."

His friend snorted as he pressed his head back into the pillows. Joe tried to shift his body, but winced with pain and remained as he was.

"I...don't care."

Candy had heard about Joe Cartwright's infamous bouts of self-pity. He hadn't believed it. The Joe he knew was a force of nature equivalent to a hurricane and twister rolled into one. Joe couldn't abide a man feeling sorry for himself.

It was like he was watching him die right in front of his eyes.

"Joe, you gotta snap out of this. You need to – "

"What do I...need to...do?" Joe rose up on one elbow. His chest was pumping hard and sweat broke out on his brow as he spoke. "I nearly...killed...my little brother! What the Hell...do...I need...to do other than _die_...and put everyone who...loves me out of...their misery!"

He was practically shouting by the time he was done.

It was a very quiet voice that answered.

"You need to live."

Candy turned. He'd been waiting for Mister Cartwright to come and tan his hide. He hadn't expected to find what he did.

Five-foot three inches of blond-haired blue-eyed female power.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella nodded to Candy as he walked out the door. She knew he was on his way to get Mister Ben. She'd been on her way downstairs to check on her brother when she heard Joe's desperate plea. She had a few minutes at most, depending on how involved the older man was with Jamie's care. She'd heard Joe's father talking in low tones to the boy as she passed the door and glanced in to see him sitting on the edge of the bed.

She'd come to do the same with the house's _other_ invalid.

Joe was laying partly on his right side, staring off toward the wall. She wasn't sure if he'd recognized her when she stepped in, though she'd changed less than he had in the intervening years. Still, he had just come out of a high fever and most likely was confused. In fact, it looked like he might slip back into sleep any moment.

Bella gritted her teeth and winced at the mess that was his left shoulder. It looked like an angry cat had caught the flesh in its teeth and tried to chew right through. Doctor Martin told her that he thought Joe had protected Jamie from the wire as he cut him free and had taken the brunt of its attack between the shoulder-blade and his neck. Looking down, she saw his right arm was nearly free of cuts, so she touched him there.

"Joe. Joe? Can you hear me?"

"Go away," he breathed. There was no anger in the tone, just defeat.

"I just got here," she replied, keeping her tone light. "You don't really want me to leave, do you?"

His eyes had closed, but they fluttered back open. With a moan, Joe rolled over to look at her. He frowned and then she saw recognition dawn.

"You're...here?" he asked, breathless. "I...thought you were...a dream."

Did he still think she was Alice?

"Joe, do you know who I am?"

He shifted his arm so her hand fell away, and then caught her fingers in his hand.

"Is it...you? Bella?"

She squeezed his fingers back and nodded as tears rolled down her face.

"How?" A second later something flashed in his eyes. "Why?"

Caution kept her away from the real reason for her visit. "Remember? After Michael died, you invited me to come? About a year ago?"

"Michael." Joe licked his lips. "Your...husband."

She forced a smile. "Yes."

"Dead."

"Yes," she repeated and then changed the subject. "You remember my little brother Benjamin Joseph? He came with me. He's looking forward to meeting you."

Pain flash through Joe's eyes at the words 'little brother'.

"Jamie?" he asked.

"The doctor says he'll be all right. Like you, it will take some time to mend." Bella removed her fingers from Joe's grasp and reached out to brush a stray lock of that glistening sliver hair out of his eyes. It was a simple gesture, at once so common and so familiar she thought nothing of making it.

Joe practically jumped out of his skin.

"Don't do that," he said in a voice somewhere between pleading and warning.

Bella froze where she was. She couldn't understand.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

Joe's green eyes were narrowed. His jaw was tight. "Can't," was all he said and then turned his face away.

She was at a loss as to what to do. Fortunately, she was rescued a second later.

"I've been hearing an awful lot of chatter coming from this room," Doc Martin said as he stepped in. He kept his tone cheerful. "A man's physician is always the last to know."

Bella withdrew her hand as the older man came to her side. He smiled at her. When she rolled her eyes over to Joe, he gave her a quick shake of his head.

"There's a young man downstairs who needs rescuing, Bella."

"Benjamin?" she asked.

Paul Martin smiled. "No. Candy. Your brother has Ben's foreman pinned in a corner and is demanding he be told about every highwayman and hostile Indian Candy has ever encountered."

"Oh dear," she laughed. "I guess I should go." Bella rose slowly to her feet. She looked at Joe again. He was either asleep or pretending to be. "Call me if you need me."

He nodded. "I will."

Softly, she said, "I'll see you later, Joe."

When she got no reply, Bella left the room and headed down the stairs.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She'd wondered why Ben Cartwright hadn't come into Joe's room when he heard his son talking. Now Bella saw why. The older man was seated in the great room talking to a stranger who must have arrived while she was upstairs. She looked around for Benjamin, but didn't see him and wondered briefly if her brother had kidnapped Mister Ben's poor foreman. Then she saw Candy and Ben coming out of the kitchen.

Her brother was beaming from ear to ear.

When she met him at the door, Benjamin came up to her and pecked her on the cheek. Then he threw a glance at Candy. The foreman nodded and left the house.

"What are you two up to?" she asked softly, so as not to disturb the discussion going on by the hearth.

"Candy invited me to ride out with him and see the herd. They're getting ready to move it to pasture for the winter. He said he'd teach me how to rope steers!"

His enthusiasm was catching. She smiled for the first time since she had seen Joe.

"Are you leaving soon?"

He nodded. "Candy's going shortly. He said we'll reach the place where the herd is by sundown. We're gonna camp out over night. We'll check it out tomorrow and be back by sundown."

She hid her smile. ' _We'._ Apparently her brother was a cowpoke already.

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked.

Benjamin rolled his eyes. "Women! Always worrying."

Cocking her head she replied, "It's what God made – "

"What God made women _for._ She's my ma too, you know," he added with a smile.

A hand on her back startled her. Ben Cartwright had come up quietly behind her. "Candy will take good care of Benjamin, Bella."

The object of that sentence had stepped back into the house. The brown-haired man had a sturdy corduroy coat in his arms. As he handed it to her brother, Candy smiled at the older man. "Two Benjamins at the Ponderosa at one time is one too many the way I see it." His eyes flicked to the younger man and then returned to his boss. "I figure by the time we get back, the kid'll have a nickname and it will all be sorted out."

Bella raised up on tiptoe to kiss her brother on the cheek. He was just young enough to put up with it and old enough to keep from blushing.

"You take care."

Candy tipped his black hat and then opened the door. "Don't you worry. I'll return him with at least three of his limbs intact," he quipped. The foreman sobered as he turned to his boss. "I'll come check on Joe when we get back tomorrow, Mister Cartwright, if that's all right."

"You are always welcome here, Candy. You know that. You two take care."

As the door closed behind the two men, Bella turned toward the hearth. The man who had been speaking to Mister Ben was watching them. He was tall and thin and dressed in a black wool top coat with a garnet colored jacquard vest worn over a pair of gray brushed cotton trousers. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his pale yellow hair and a matching gold chain hung from his watch pocket. He had a thin yellow mustache too, that curled at the ends as he smiled.

"I haven't had the pleasure," the man said as he rose and joined them. He had a thick southern accent and his tone was charming.

Mister Ben turned toward him. "Doctor Brandon, this is Bella Carnaby Ashton, a dear friend of mine and my son's."

The doctor's interest in her sharpened. "Joseph?"

She nodded as he took her hand and bent over it. "Yes."

"May I be so bold as to ask if you are _just_ a friend or if there is something more?"

Startled, she turned to Joe's father. Ben met her gaze, his own concerned.

"Doctor Brandon is from Carson City," he said. "It seems, unbeknownst to any of us, he has been treating Joe."


	8. Chapter 7

SEVEN

Ben Cartwright didn't know whether to be furious or relieved.

He leaned back in his chair as he waited for Hop Sing to bring in the tea and let Bella lead the conversation. She was a charming hostess and quite good at it. Bella was twenty-six now. She had grown from the perky and precocious little girl he remembered into a full-grown woman. It was partially due to the passage of the years, of course. Unfortunately, there was another, more regretful reason for her newfound maturity.

Bella had been put through the fire.

As Bella asked Doctor Brandon about his time in South Carolina, Ben let his mind drift, recalling the letters she had sent him after the wedding. Though there was always a longing in them for the life she might have had with Joseph, she'd seemed content with the man she had married. Michael Clark Ashton was well known in the Portland area. His father, Maynard, had been one of the nascent city's shipping magnates and made a fortune. He'd done business with Maynard's company a time or two and been well satisfied. When the patriarch of the family died unexpectedly in a shipwreck, the shipping company – along with all of Maynard's other diversified interests – had gone to his children with his eldest son, Michael, taking over the role as president. Michael's younger brother, Raphael, and his sister, Mary, shared the vice-presidency. He'd met Michael when he was a young man, probably no more than twenty years of age. By the time Bella married him, he had to have been well over forty. It had surprised him at first that the young, vibrant creature he'd hosted at the Ponderosa had decided to marry such a staid older man.

Then he had found out about Bella's father.

Several years after the family made the move to Oregon, Levi Carnaby suffered a fit of apoplexy and was left paralyzed. When news of the terrible event reached them he 'd offered to help, but Levi and Mary refused any charity. Ben shook his head. He didn't know how Bella had pulled it off, but apparently neither of them were aware of the fact that she was marrying to provide them with _just_ that. Her letters indicated she loved Michael Ashton, but it was with the love of a woman far beyond her years – a woman who was willing to sacrifice personal happiness in order to provide for the ones she loved.

Much as he disagreed with her choice, he had to honor her for it.

Ben shifted and turned as Hop Sing entered the room. He smiled at his old friend and watched as the man from China brought the tea to the table. He'd prepared three cups. Doctor Brandon insisted he add a fourth. It seemed the physician knew Doctor Kam Lee and, as Hop Sing was eager to hear about the Chinese doctor, he sat down and entered the conversation.

Ben took a sip as he continued to ruminate. Bella's letters had begun to intimate that something was wrong with her husband about a year after she and Michael married. Where Ashton had always been the picture of health, suddenly he was constant in pain. They believed it to be occasioned by a back injury he had incurred when serving on one of his father's ships. Sadly, they were soon to learn it was nothing of the kind.

It was cancer.

Bella and Michael went to Europe to seek a cure, but the specialists there held out no more hope for his recovery than did the ones in Portland or San Francisco. Bella wrote once or twice while they were abroad. Upon their return, she began to report faithfully on their life again. Michael's pain was no better and he had begun to have dark moods. Bella was not only frightened for him but, at times, _of_ him. Eventually they discovered that the medication one of the European physicians had prescribed had brought about his anger and actually aggravated his depression. Once they discovered the cause and he stopped taking it, Ashton had again become the man Bella knew and loved. The last six months of their married life had been bittersweet.

He remembered the tear stains on the letter that announced her husband's death.

Ben took another sip. He nodded his appreciation to Hop Sing's for the choice of Pu-erh tea as his cook rose to leave. It carried quite a wallop and he was going to need the energy to sit up with Jamie tonight. The boy had awakened briefly. Once he realized he was home, the redhead had relaxed.

That was, until Doctor Martin mentioned Joe.

"Mister Cartwright," Beverly Brandon asked, breaking into his reverie. "Would it be all right for me to see your son before I go?"

Ben sat his cup down. "If it is all right with Paul."

Professional courtesy was a constant in the medical trade and Doctor Brandon understood. "Is Doctor Martin with your son now?"

"He's in Jamie's room," Bella said. "Unless he's left."

"Paul is heading out tonight for some much needed rest," Ben explained. "He said both Jamie and Joe are well enough for him to do so. He needs to attend to other patients and then he will come back the day after tomorrow."

Doctor Brandon rose to his feet. "I have a room in town. I will return tomorrow then."

Ben shook his head. "You can stay here with us. We have more than enough room. That way you can see Joseph in the morning."

The blond man pursed his lips and nodded. "If it is no trouble."

He indicated he should sit down. Ben waited a moment and then asked, "Will you tell me what you have been treating my son for?"

Brandon sighed. "I'm afraid I can't, Mister Cartwright. Not without your son's permission." The city doctor hesitated. A slight smile lifted his lips and curled the tips of his thin mustache. "I imagine he will be none too pleased to see me."

Ben imagined he was right. If there was one thing that was a constant with Joseph, it was refusing to admit that he needed any kind of help. "What brought you here, then, if you don't mind me asking? I mean, if Joe didn't want me to know something was wrong."

The doctor's eyes went to Bella.

She had moved to sit at his side. Ben took her hand. "You can talk in front of Bella."

"Very well." Brandon thought a moment as if choosing his words carefully. "I have been seeing your son for several months. In the beginning, it seemed he was improving, but lately..." He hesitated. "Lately I have seen signs that have disturbed me. I told Joseph if he failed to appear at his next appointment, I would be compelled to come to you." The doctor opened his hands wide. "And here I am."

Ben didn't have to ask what those signs were. Melancholia. Dejection.

An unbridled temper.

Ben started to reply, but stopped as Paul Martin appeared at the top of the steps, black bag in hand. He descended to the floor and walked over to them.

They all rose.

"Paul," Ben said, "this is Doctor Brandon from Carson City. Doctor Brandon, Paul Martin, our physician of long-standing in Virginia City."

Both men inclined their heads and then shook hands.

"Doctor Brandon has been seeing Joseph," Ben said, broaching what he knew would be a touchy subject.

For a moment Paul said nothing. Then he asked, a hint of disapproval in his tone, "Doctor _Beverly_ Brandon? Of South Carolina?"

Brandon inclined his head. "The same."

Ben was confused. "Do you know each other?"

Paul shook his head. "My knowledge of Doctor Brandon is professional," his said, his tone guarded. "He has had some success with treating melancholia in veterans of the war between the states."

"Both Union _and_ Confederate," the city doctor supplied.

"Julian, my assistant, is quite a devotee of yours," his old friend said. "I admit, I have read some of your papers and I am not entirely convinced of the efficacy of your treatments."

Ben swallowed over his fear. Treatments that _Joe_ might be taking.

"The success rate far outweighs the failures," Brandon countered coolly.

"But there have _been_ failures. I believe one or two of the veterans committed suicide."

"There were other factors," the city doctor replied. "Some cases are more complicated than others."

"Is this what you are treating my son for?" Ben demanded.

Both doctors turned toward him.

"Ben," Paul cautioned, "Joe is a grown man, responsible for his own choices. Doctor Brandon is, regrettably, not at liberty to tell either you or me the answer to that question without your son's permission."

 _Regrettably._

His son might be in danger but, regrettably, there was not a _damn_ thing he could do about it.

"I assure you, Mister Cartwright, the treatment Joe is under is harmless." Brandon's gaze was steady. He seemed a man who meant what he said. "It is one that I have used with dozens of men and all have prospered by it. In fact, President Lincoln before his untimely death was under the same care."

Ben felt Bella stiffen. Her gaze went to the city doctor and then flew to the stairs with concern. He watched her rise.

"I'm going to go sit with Joe, if that's all right," she said.

Paul Martin considered it. "He won't be awake. I gave him a sleeping draft." His old friend looked at him. "The boy was too restless for his own good."

Doctor Brandon was nodding as if he agreed. "Rest is the best remedy."

"I won't wake him," she replied. "I'll check in on Jamie too, if that's all right."

Ben felt suddenly weary. He'd had to cope with two sons injured at once before. But before, he had had a third son to help and _he_ had been _much_ younger.

"How is Jamie?" he asked.

"His fever is slight and the cuts seem to be healing well thanks to Hop Sing's remedies," Paul said. "He should be sleeping as well. I sedated Jamie too so he wouldn't move around. It's wise to let those wounds heal properly before he begins to stir. Give it another day or two and he should be able to be up for a few hours at a time."

Ben turned to the young woman who waited near the bottom of the stairs. In some ways Bella put him in mind of Marie. Bella was tiny and petite and simply a _stunning_ creature. But it was more than that. In spite of the setbacks life had handed her, he sensed Bella Carnaby Ashton was a woman with a purpose, and that purpose was to see that his older son got well.

The older man rose and crossed to her. Kissing her on the cheek, he sent her on her way. As he watched Bella mount the stairs, Ben wondered what was behind her sudden impulse to see Joseph. Still, he didn't wonder very long.

Whatever it was, it was for his beloved son's good.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Well, if that don't beat all!" Candy shoved his hat back on his head and let out a low whistle. "There's dumb, and then there's _plain dumb_."

He and Benjamin had parted ways for the moment. The boy had gone off with one of the older drovers to see what sights there were to be seen when you were looking at a river of beef. He'd taken off to look for strays and had found one sitting in the middle of the road.

On top of a city slicker.

Candy moved his horse forward a few steps. "You need a hand, mister?"

"Get this...leviathan off of me!" came the sharp reply.

The foreman grinned. "Well now, he looks mighty content. I figure that old beeve was looking for a good cushion to take a rest on after his flight for freedom and you're it."

The man was reaching out with his hand, clawing at the dirt. "If...I could reach my...firearm...I'd shoot it!"

"Mister, I think _you_ need to think about that. Right now he's just sitting on you 'cause he's tired. You shoot him and one of two things are gonna happen – you're gonna make him mad and he's gonna rise up and stomp on you, or you're gonna kill him and a half ton of dead cow is gonna crash down on you."

"Then...then...what am I supposed to do!" the man spluttered.

Candy shrugged. "Ask him politely to move?"

The city slicker's skin was pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. His eyes went wide as he stared at the unbothered steer.

"My good man!" he exclaimed. "I have money. I'll give you anything you want..."

The Ponderosa's foreman shook his head. "No deal. Mister Cartwright pays me well. There just ain't nothin' I need."

"Cartwright? _Benjamin_ Cartwright?"

Candy wrinkled his nose. It hadn't occurred to him that this fashion plate might be a friend of the Cartwrights. With a sigh he threw his leg over his saddle and dismounted.

"You know the Cartwrights?" he asked as he approached.

"I am practically a relative!" the man snapped. "I've come to see Bella Ashton!"

Damn.

Candy exchanged a look with the steer.

There was a _lot_ of sympathy in those black eyes.

Taking the animal by the horns, the brown-haired man began to tug. With a grunt, he said, "They don't call them bull-headed for nothin'."

"I _demand_ you free me!"

"I'm doin' my best." Candy stepped back and sized up the beeve. It seemed pretty content. Truth to tell, he'd of been happy to leave the dandy trapped under him until the steer decided it was time to move on – if he hadn't been afraid Mister Cartwright would disagree.

"I got an idea," Candy said and started to walk away.

"Don't you dare leave me!"

"I ain't leavin'. Keep those fancy britches of yours on," he shot back.

The Ponderosa foreman stopped at the edge of the road. He cleared his throat and then began to sing.

"What kind of an idiot are you? This is not a music hall!"

"Shut up!" Candy yelled back. Then he started again. He wasn't the best singer, but 'get along little dogey' worked its magic. The steer bellowed, shifted back – forcing a grunt from its fancy cushion – and then rose to its feet and started down the road.

The city slicker climbed shakily to his feet and began to dust himself off. "What anyone sees in this untamed wilderness is beyond me!" he snarled. Firing him an angry look, he demanded, "What are you going to do about that animal?"

Candy glanced at the steer. He was munchin' grass and mindin' his own business. "Ain't much I see needs doing," he replied.

"Why, that horror almost killed me! I demand you call the sheriff!"

His eyebrows popped. "Why? You planning on having him arrested?"

"You idiot! I plan on having it _shot!"_

The steer snorted.

He agreed. Seemed to him it was someone other than that beeve needed shootin'.

As Candy opened his mouth to reply, the sound of hooves driving hard into the ground caught his attention. He looked and saw Benjamin Carnaby riding hard toward him. The boy drew his mount in and was off its back before it stopped moving.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Someone shot off a gun near the herd," Ben said, breathless. "Half of them spooked. George sent me to get you."

"Good lord!" the slicker gasped. "There are _more_ of the ghastly beasts? Will they come through here? Am I in danger?"

Before Candy could think of a suitable reply, he saw Benjamin's eyes go wide with surprise. "Rafe!"the boy exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

 _Rafe?_

He tried not to snigger.

"I am here because your sister has no sense. She needs looking after," the dandy said as he straightened his fine wool coat that was not so fine anymore.

"Bella's got _me_ ," Benjamin protested.

" _You_ are a child."

The kid's smile was triumphant. "And _you_ are covered with shit!"

Candy wrinkled his nose.

It was true.

The foreman inclined his head toward _Rafe_ and looked at Benjamin. "Friend of yours?"

The kid scowled. "Hardly. He's my brother-in-law."

Oh.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella stood in the hall outside of the room where Jamie slept – the one that was Joe's – her heart pounding hard in her chest. It couldn't be.

Could it?

Not _again._

Tiptoeing to the door she opened it and went in. She stood just inside of it for a moment, listening to the boy's breathing. It was even and she thought Jamie was asleep. The draught the doctor had given him should keep him under, but she knew from experience that might not be the case. As she stood there, considering what she should do, her mind returned to the horrific period just after she and her husband had returned from Europe. A very experienced and well-respected doctor had given Michael a medication to help him rest and buoy his spirits. At first it had seemed to work. Her husband _had_ been happier. But then, on the voyage back, he grew short-tempered and slipped into a dark melancholia. Michael struggled to contain his temper even with her. One day, after they had returned home, it had boiled over into a rage that left several irreplaceable family heirlooms shattered on the parlor floor. In the midst of the fit, he had almost struck her.

Her husband was old enough and wise enough to realize that something was wrong. The only thing he could pin it down to was the medication the highly acclaimed and lauded doctor had given him. He went to another physician who assured him the pills had nothing to do with his unexpected outbursts. That man said those were the result of his having to face a fatal condition. They had almost given up hope when a friend of the family suggested seeing an old-fashioned general practitioner who had been with Michael's family since he'd been a child. Doctor Morley took one look at the ingredients listed on the label on the amber bottle and paled. Licorice, rose honey, hollyhock.

One-third mercury.

Michael's brain was slowly being poisoned.

It seemed the medicine had once been the toast of both continents and considered a wonder drug. Then, reports of effects on the side began to surface – tremendous mood swings, insomnia and headache, tremors, weakness, and abnormal sensations that made the patient think he was going mad. Rumor had it that President Lincoln had been prescribed the same thing, but had stopped taking it after he lifted one of his cabinet members from the floor by the neck and nearly choked the man to death. Lincoln, it seemed, had the strength of will to choose to discontinue its use. There were others though who clung to the drug in spite of the warnings, as though it was a miracle cure they could not live without. And still others whom it seemed _could_ not live withoutit. There had been suicides. One man's heart had stopped abruptly.

It was called Blue Mass.

"Joe..." she whispered.

Determined, Bella moved into Joe's room. She cast a quick look at the sleeping boy in the bed and then began to search, looking everywhere a man might hide something he didn't want others to find. She pulled out drawers and felt under them. She rummaged through Joe's shirts and pants. While she was sure Joe thought there was nothing wrong with taking the medication, she knew him well enough to know that he would hide it. Her anger flared as she considered the smug doctor from Carson City, so sure he knew better than Paul Martin how to take care of the man she loved. If Joe was taking the pills then that could explain the signs Ben and the others had seen – his impulsive anger and violent rages, the cruel words he had spoken to those he loved and, most of all, his hatred of himself.

Five minutes later, Bella stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. She'd found nothing, but that didn't mean she was going to give up. The pills were there, she knew it! Just as she thought to begin again, her eyes fell on the nightstand by the bed. She hadn't searched it. That was where someone who had nothing to hide would put a bottle of pills.

Bella froze. Then she laughed.

Joe wasn't a boy anymore like the one occupying his bed. He was a man. His father wouldn't go through the things in his room. There would be no _need_ to hide the pills.

Walking to the nightstand, she quietly opened the drawer. It was there. The amber snake.

A bottle of Blue Mass with a dozen or more pills inside.

Bella hesitated and then palmed the medication. She closed the drawer and went to the bedroom door. With a last look at Jamie to make sure he was still sleeping, she stepped into the hall. Her eyes went to the room Joe occupied and then to the stairs which led down to the great room where both the doctors and Mister Ben were.

Which should she choose?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe stirred and opened his eyes. For a moment he had no idea where he was, then he remembered awakening earlier and realizing he was in Adam's room. He looked at it now with renewed pain. It had been over a decade since his older brother had left to see the world and Pa kept his room like a shrine. Sure, he missed his brother – he always would – but you had to move on.

The second the thought crossed his mind, Joe was shamed.

Wasn't that what Pa had told him about Alice and Tanner?

Carefully, mindful of the fact that just about everything he had hurt like hell, Joe pulled himself up and rested his injured back against the pillows. Being in Adam's room was like a punch in the gut. He could almost see his older brother standing by the bed with his arms folded, one shoulder braced on the wall and one eyebrow cocked high as he softly scolded him.

 _If you want to be treated like a man, little brother, you'd better start acting like one._

He's been acting like a child.

And he didn't know why.

Joe had been surprised to awaken alone. From what little he remembered, there'd been someone at his side day and night – Pa, old Doc Martin, Candy even. And someone else. A woman. In his fevered state he'd thought it was Alice. For the life of him, he couldn't remember who she was, though he was sure she had told him her name. Joe looked at the door, which was mostly closed. He knew from the comings and goings outside it that Jamie had to be in his bedroom across the hall. The Doc must have kept them together when they first got to the house, since it would have been easier to tend both of them that way, and then Pa had moved him here.

He had to see Jamie. He had to see that his little brother was all right. He had to –

Apologize.

God, how was he going to apologize to someone he almost killed?

Determined, Joe pushed himself away from the pillows. Gritting his teeth, he moved his lower body to the side and worked his way to the edge of the bed. Once there he stopped, breathing hard. The motion sickened his stomach and put stars before his eyes, but he didn't care. He was going to get up. He was going to make it across that hall and go into that room and throw himself on the kid's mercy. He had to make Jamie understand that he loved him, that he would _die_ before he would hurt him on purpose.

Joe sucked in a sob.

Death was all around him and none of them were his.

It wasn't that he wanted to die. Not really. If he was honest with himself, he damn well _didn't_ want to. But he wanted to stop hurting the people he loved and since he couldn't seem to do that, being out of their life was about the only way he could see to make it happen. He'd made up his mind. He'd go see Jamie and then he'd leave. He'd do it late at night when no one was watching him – when they thought Doc Martin's medicine had knocked him flat.

Medicine.

Joe scowled. What day was it? And when was he supposed to have gone to Carson City? He'd skipped on visit with Doctor Brandon already.

If it had been _two_...

As he stood there, the sound of men's voices raised in disagreement floated up the stairs. Joe could barely hear them, but he knew one was his pa. Another might have been Paul Martin's. He thought so but wasn't sure. The third he didn't know.

At least, he _hoped_ he didn't know it.

Joe drew a deep breath and, with his badly cut arms, pushed himself up and off the bed. Pain shot through his injured shoulder as he did, taking his breath away. Fortunately, his legs had made it through the battle with the barbed wire in fairly good shape and they carried him to the door where he leaned his head against the jamb and listened.

" _...quackery!" one man exclaimed._

" _...telling me, Paul...son in danger?"_

" _...listen to...country bumpkin!"_

Yeah, that third one was Doctor Brandon.

"Oops," Joe whispered and winced.

Taking hold of the latch, he pulled the door inward. The problem was, he was leaning his weight on it, so when the door opened _he_ swung in with it. A second later he lost his footing and ended up in a painful pile on the floor.

"Ouch," he conceded. "Damn."

"Your pa will wash your mouth out with soap if he hears you cussing," a soft voice remarked.

At last. He was gonna find out who the mystery woman was!

Joe heard the swish of skirts as the woman sank to the floor behind him. It reminded him of his ma. He couldn't remember much about his mother other than she smelled like lilac and her dress had made that same sound whenever she came into his room and reached over to tuck him into bed. A pair of arms circled his chest and a head rested on his back. Tears wet the cuts the wire had left.

He tried to turn to look at her, but she held him fast.

"What are you doing out of bed, you silly boy?" the woman asked softly.

Her voice was familiar, but not recognizable. It was like he had heard it before, but from a distance. Maybe a _long_ distance.

"Who...?"

There was a small laugh. "We can't keep meeting like this, you know?"

"Like what?" he asked. "On the floor?"

Fingers explored his hair. He thought about shifting away from them, but there was something familiar – something...calming about the touch.

"In a creek. In the snow. In the presence of a madman. And now, on the floor." The woman paused. Tears made her voice shake. "Joe Cartwright, don't you think I've rescued you often enough?"

Her grip on him lessened – slightly. Enough for him to turn and look. The face that greeted him was one he knew but, like his own, it had changed. That youthful beauty he had admired as a twenty-two year old boy had ripened into a woman's full splendor.

Joe lifted his hand to capture her chin in his fingers.

"Bella," he breathed.

She smiled through her tears. "You _said_ to check back in four or five years."

For the first time in a long time, he smiled. "I sure did."

"Well, here I am," she said with a shrug.

Joe frowned. "Bella, I..."

Her finger went to his lips. She shook her head. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. A second later, pulling back, Bella favored him with an impish grin.

"I think your Pa is coming up. Shall we give him a surprise?"

"You're crazy," he said.

Bella rose. She held a hand out and then, with effort helped him to stand. Moving on his own, but leaning heavily on her, Joe walked back to the bed and literally fell into it. Bella pushed the door to and then came to the bed and climbed in on the other side. She scooted over until she was next to him and once again circled his waist with her arms.

"Do you think you can sleep?" she asked, concern coloring her tone.

"Mm-hmm," he said, already halfway there.

Joe felt her hand on his forehead, caressing it. "Go to sleep, little brother. I'm here now. I'll take care you. Everything is going to be all right."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben had shown Doctor Beverly Brandon to the door. Once Paul had pulled from the other man the treatment he had prescribed for Joe, the battle had been joined. Modern medicine warred with good old-fashioned common sense. It had been up to him to choose.

In the end, his trust in Paul Martin won out.

Slowly, the older man climbed the stairs. He went to Joe's room to check Jamie first and then headed across the hall to the room that had been his eldest son's. Ben listened for a moment and then pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him brought tears to his eyes. Just like they had so many years before, Joe and Bella lay on the bed together breaking the house rules.

And what a joy it was that they were!


	9. Chapter 8

EIGHT

It was early morning. Outside the dining room window of the Ponderosa ranch house birds were wheeling through the sky, singing out the joy of a new day. Inside the house was quiet. It was that hour just before Hop Sing rose to begin his food preparations for the day, the hour before Ben Cartwright stirred in his bed, placed his feet on the floor and headed for the clothing he had laid out the night before; an hour before the hands stirred in the bunkhouse and the business of the day began.

Joe Cartwright savored it. It was one of the only times when he could be alone.

He'd gone to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. The wonderful aroma came with him into the great room as he carried the enamel pot in and filled one of the delicate china teacups on the table – the teacups his pa insisted they use so they remained 'civilized'. Sitting on his 'civilized' mother's French settee, Joe broke the rules by placing his socked feet on the sofa table, easing the strain on his wounded back.

Taking a sip, he savored the brew.

It was the first time he had been downstairs since...since he'd lost his temper and made a tangle of everything. He'd awakened to the birdsong – and to Bella Carnaby laying beside him. For a moment he had felt a jolt. He'd moved his hand and encountered a woman's thigh. For just a moment, laying there with his eyes closed, he wondered if it had all been a dream – Alice's brother's poor choices, the men who had come to make John Harper pay, his house on fire with his wife and child inside. He had nightmares. Always had.

Maybe this was just one more...

He'd rolled over carefully, sucking in the agony the motion brought, to find not his shy, pretty wife with her bashful smile and straight honey-blonde hair, but a beauty with spiraling blonde curls, a pert upturned nose, and full lips that beamed even while in sleep.

In a second it had all come back. The nightmare was real. Alice and his child had died. This wasn't Alice. It was Bella.

His big sister had come home.

Joe's lips curled at the thought of Bella being his 'big' sister. The idea had been absurd when he was seventeen and she was eleven, but the term had stuck after she rescued him out of that creek. It had seemed even more absurd when she came back at eighteen. Then, his thoughts of the vivacious beauty had been anything _other_ than brotherly. And now, here she was again. Older. Wiser. Perhaps a bit world-weary like him. But she still looked _so_ young. Staring at her, lying there beside him, he had not seen a child but a young woman who had all of her life before her.

She didn't deserve to be saddled with a broken old cowpoke like him.

Joe shifted his feet off the table and leaned over to pour more coffee. He felt ancient. The life he'd believed would happen had gone up literally in smoke, and along with it had burned away all of his youthful desires. He'd made Bella a promise that first time he met her – that one day he'd marry her. It was a shame. He didn't know if she was still in love with him, but if she was, he was going to have to break her heart. He'd never marry again. Never be a father.

Never take...that chance.

As he shifted back, Joe heard a sound. He looked up to find his father descending the stairs. A quick glance at the tall case clock showed him it was only four-thirty.

Before the older man noticed him, Joe said, "You're up early, Pa. Goin' somewhere special today?"

Ben Cartwright started and then smiled. "It's good to see you up, son, but are you sure you're strong enough? Doctor Martin wanted you in bed through the rest of this week."

He shrugged. "You know Paul. He knows if he tells me Friday, I'll be up on Wednesday. So he always adds at least two days to his orders."

His father laughed. "I suppose he does." The older man paused. "Fresh coffee?" Pa asked as he inclined his head toward the pot.

"Just made it."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Your company is one of the things I value, Pa. I'd be pleased to share the morning with you."

The white-haired man crossed to him, touched his shoulder briefly, and then went to get a cup and saucer from the cupboard. He returned with it, filled it from the pot, and then sat down by him on the settee.

Before the older man could ask, Joe said, "I'm okay, Pa."

"Just okay?" Those white eyebrows rose high. "Not 'fine'?"

Joe's eyes went to the table before him. He'd placed the amber bottle that had been clasped in Bella's fingers on the center of the table by the fruit bowl. He'd made his mind up to tell his Pa about it. He assumed Bella had found it in his nightstand drawer, though what she was rummaging around in there for he had no idea.

He saw his father pale as he followed his gaze. There was a pause and then he said, "Joe, why? Why would you do such a thing without consulting me?"

He could have said he was his own man and old enough to make his own decisions. He knew, though, that even though that was a part of it, it was not the _main_ part. He could have asked Doc Martin for help. No, he'd been ashamed. Ashamed that he _needed_ help. Ashamed that he was not strong enough to overcome this on his own.

Just...ashamed.

"Joseph," his father began. "I..." He drew a deep breath and expelled it _very_ slowly. "I'm sorry if I have been too demanding as a father."

It was his turn to be surprised. "What? Pa, that's not – "

The white-haired man held his hand out. "Hear me out. When Paul and I talked, after you and Jamie had been brought here, he said something that got me thinking. Paul said I cast a 'long shadow'. That being Ben Cartwright's son was not easy. That I made you, and your brothers, feel that you had to be as good and as great as you _thought_ I was."

Joe wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he admitted, "Well, living up to the example you set hasn't always been easy. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. You're a good man, Pa. The best. What more could there be to strive toward other than bein' like you?"

His father swallowed. There were tears in his eyes. His voice cracked as he said, "Thank you, Joseph. There's nothing a father could want more than to hear those words." He paused and his lips pursed for a moment. "I think your brother Adam ran to escape that shadow. I don't want you to...drown in it. I know you are making comparisons, son, and it saddens me."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Well, Pa, what can I say? You did lose three wives and I only lost one, and I'm here to tell you I don't know how after Adam's ma died you ever had the courage to try again."

His father studied him. "Are you telling my you believe you won't ever marry again?"

He shifted and sat up. His father didn't fail to notice how gingerly he moved. The grin he favored his pa with was sheepish.

"I woke up with Bella in my bed this morning," he said.

The older man nodded.

"You knew?"

"I left her there," Pa laughed. "I remember the last time you were hurt and that young woman was in the house. I fought a losing battle to keep you two away from each other."

He snorted. "I guess we were pretty persistent."

"She is a determined young woman. Just about as determined as you."

Joe's eyes flicked to the other man's face. There was a hint of disapproval in his tone when he asked, "Pa, did you invite her here?"

His father finished his coffee and placed the cup on the table. "No. I received a letter that told me she was coming about a week ago. She asked me not to tell you."

Joe scowled. "Why?"

"She believed you would forbid her to come."

He was going to rebuke that, but then he thought better of it. Given his mood, that was exactly what he would have done.

"I guess I haven't been the easiest thing to live with this last few months," he admitted.

His father's eyes went wide. He snorted and shook his head. "No, you haven't. You've been so angry." The older man's gaze went to the table and the amber bottle again. "Is that why you sought help from a doctor in another town and began to take medication?"

Joe leaned forward and picked up the bottle with the harmless looking little blue pills inside. He'd spoken briefly to Bella and she'd explained that her husband had been put on them too and it had remarkably changed his personality.

"No. The anger came later, after I started to take these." His eyes went to his father's face. "I couldn't sleep, Pa. Couldn't get those...images out of my head. Couldn't forget the sound of Bill Tanner walking behind me, whistling that devil's tune. Doctor Brandon said these pills would help me to relax so I could sleep. They'd keep me from getting so low."

"Did they?"

Joe shrugged as he put the bottle done. "Pardon me, Pa, but _Hell_ if I know. I guess I wasn't sad anymore, I was just mad – so mad I could have torn the world apart." The curly-headed man sighed as his eyes went to the stairs. "How's Jamie doing?"

"He's sleeping naturally now. Like you, he's hurting pretty badly."

He closed his eyes to try to shut out yet another image of loss and pain. "I wish I could remember just what happened. I was standing by Cooch, getting a drink of water. I'd just gone back to the wire when Jamie said something. Can't even remember what it was. It made me _so_ angry that I..."

"That you what?" his father's voice was even, there was no condemnation in it.

"I shoved him. _Hard._ I didn't realize he was that close to the unbaled wire. He fell...into...it..." Joe shuddered. "I tried to catch him, but it already had hold. It started cutting him right away. He..." His eyes flew open and locked on his father's. They mirrored each other in tears. "Jamie pulled away from me, Pa. He was terrified. Not of the wire. Not of being hurt. Of _me._ _Terrified_ of me!"

He felt his father's hand grip his arm. "Jamie loves you."

Tears spilled down his cheeks. "Are you sure, Pa? How can you be _sure_ he does anymore?"

"Because I know Jamie, like I know you. One bad day cannot outweigh the power of over a thousand good ones."

"One bad day," Joe snorted. "That was one _hell_ of a bad day!"

"So was the one when your brother Adam shot you." His father lifted his hand. "You almost died, Joe. Did you stop loving your brother?"

"Of course not. It was an accident." He stopped, thought and then said, "My hurting Jamie wasn't."

"You _meant_ to hurt him then?"

"No. But I shoved him on purpose."

" _Into_ the wire?"

Joe paused. Then he sighed. "You should have been a lawyer, Pa."

"I have been a lawyer, and a doctor, and a rich man and poor man, if not an Indian chief," he smiled. "A man has to be all those things when he raises four boys in the hopes of making them into men he can admire." His father's hand cupped his cheek. "And I do admire you, Joseph."

He sniffed back tears and then nodded toward the stair. "I suppose I should go see if Jamie is awake."

As he stood up, he reached for the bottle. His father's hand prevented it.

"You're not planning on taking these again, are you?"

Bella had told him a little about the fight between Doctor Martin and Doctor Brandon. He wasn't sure what to think.

"If I do, Pa, I won't hide it."

"Paul thinks they caused your unreasonable anger."

"And Doctor Brandon thinks they keep me from sinking down so far into sorrow I can't climb out." He eyed the bottle. "I like Doctor Brandon and I trust him, but I don't think I'll need them anymore, Pa."

"But..."

He shrugged. "I'll just put them in the drawer."

His father sighed. "Will you talk to Paul about it? Please?"

Joe nodded.

" _Before_ you take them again?"

"Sure, Pa. Like I said, I think I'm on the mend." Joe smiled wanly. "Besides, now that Bella's here, she's not gonna let me sit around and stew."

"You've got that right," a light voice proclaimed.

Joe turned to find Bella standing at the top of the stair.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bella kept a hand on the rail, steadying herself as she descended. It was as if, in a rush, eight years had simply fallen away. There was a pang of guilt and maybe a shade of regret when she thought of Michael, but this man, sitting on the old striped settee she remembered so well, was the one she loved.

The one she had _always_ loved.

But did he still love her?

Ben Cartwright was rising to his feet. "You're up early, Bella," he said.

She merely nodded. She'd awakened to find Joe no longer in the bed and the bottle of Blue Mass gone and she'd grown frightened. She was still dressed from the night before, so she'd hastened into the hall and, after checking the room Jamie was in and finding Joe was not there, headed for the stairs.

She'd slowed down when she heard Joe and his father talking.

A slight smile lifted her lips. He was a stubborn one, Joe Cartwright. Obstinate and determined, with a need to do things for himself and not let anyone else show him _or_ pave the way. If they told him not to take those pills, he would probably take them just to prove he knew better. She prayed that there would be no need. She had asked God to allow her to help him heal. God seemed okay with the idea.

Now she had to see if Joe was as well.

Ever the gentleman, Joe rose shakily to his feet. "Seems I missed you letter telling me you were coming," he said with just a bit of that ornery smile she remembered.

"Must have gotten lost in the post," she replied as she took a seat in the blue chair near the fire, knowing that if she sat down, the two men would as well. Bella smiled sweetly. "I'm sure I sent one."

Joe's father sat down but, surprisingly, Joe remained standing. "Next time I'm in town I'll have to give the postmaster a piece of my mind."

He stood there, like he was planning on going somewhere. The morning light fell in wide beams through the eastern window of the ranch house, settling in his hair and turning the silver curls to gold. Looking at Joe Cartwright, Bella saw the man before her but also the skinny, brown-haired boy she had fallen in love with when she was barely old enough to know what love was. Knowing he would balk at any show of affection before his father – maybe any show of affection _at all_ – she drew in a deep breath and held it against the sight.

"Joseph, aren't you going to sit down?" Mister Ben asked softly.

Joe favored his father with one of those half-smiles he had, the ones that lifted his lips but failed to reach his eyes.

"I need to go talk to Jamie, Pa."

"He's asleep," Bella said, hoping it wasn't too quick. Praying Joe didn't know she wanted him to stand there just a little while longer.

"I'll sit with him, then," he said. "He'll be waking up soon. I..." Joe swallowed. "I need to talk to him, Pa. It's for me as much as for him."

Ben Cartwright nodded. "We'll call you when breakfast is on the table."

Joe returned the nod. "Thanks, Pa." As he moved past her, Joe stopped to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're here, Bella," he said. "I've missed you."

She covered his hand with hers. "I've missed you too, Joe."

And with that, he continued on until he reached the stairs.

Bella turned to watch him ascend. She knew Mister Ben had too. They had a shared concern and it was that Joe heal; that he become the man they had known or maybe, just maybe, even a better one for all he had been through.

Pivoting in her seat, she looked at Joe's father.

He nodded and then said, "He's very wounded, Bella. You know Joseph. He feels things deeply. Alice's death hit him hard. But I think," the older man paused, "the loss of his child hit him even harder."

Joe loved his pa. Loved him in a way that almost passed understanding. She could imagine how the thought – the hope – of being a father to his own child had given him a joy that also went past expressing. And then, to have not only his wife but that baby _murdered_...

She shook her head. "I can't imagine."

"Joe has...had a hard time letting go. He feels responsible." Ben hesitated. "There was nothing he could have done, of course."

Bella was silent a minute. "What can I do to help him?"

The older man considered it. Finally, he said, "Be his friend."

She nodded, understanding. Not his lover. His friend.

"I can do that."

The older man rose and came over to her. He sat on the low table in front of her and leaned forward to place his hand over hers. "I know you love my son. I know you always have." He paused. "Forgive me for thinking you were too young to know what you were doing when you were here before."

She smiled. "I _was_ too young. That's why I ran away. I was a child with a child's perception of life. Somehow," she drew a breath and held it a moment, "somehow I thought that, if I lived in a city, bad things would not happen." Bella's laugh was wistful. "Apoplexy and cancer are not limited to the west."

He nodded. "No, they're not." The older man straightened up. "How are you, Bella? I've been so consumed with Joseph and Jamie since you came that I haven't asked. You lost your husband..."

"Michael was an amazing man." She hesitated, unsure of how much to say. "He...knew I loved your son, but he was all right with that. He took me in, took care of me and my family. He loved me although he knew he had only half of my heart." She winced. "Maybe less."

"I knew him as a young man. I'm sorry I did not get to know the man he grew into."

"Before he died, he said he was content. He knew I would be taken care of. Michael left fifty-one percent of the family's concerns to me, with the other part going to his brother and sister." She paused. "Rafe was all right with that. Mary was quite bitter."

"Rafe? He was the younger boy? I vaguely recall him as a little scamp always on his brother's heels."

Bella nodded. She hesitated and then said, "He was determined to accompany me to the Ponderosa. That's why Benjamin came, to keep him from doing so."

"Oh? Is there trouble between you?"

She made a face worthy of the eleven-year-old she had been. "Rafe thinks he's in love with me."

The older man smiled. "Thinks?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe he is. But I'd rather marry a rattler!"

This time Mister Ben laughed. "I see, like my son, that you aren't short on opinions."

Bella laughed too. "I suppose Rafe is all right, but he is so irritating. He won't take 'no' for an answer. I'm surprised he didn't hop on a coach and follow me out here like some lovesick pup!"

As she finished speaking, the door to the ranch house opened. Along with a strong, bitter wind, Candy Canaday, Mister Ben's foreman, blew in. He was covered with dirt and dust and looked exhausted. Candy glanced over his shoulder as he settled on the rug near the door and then turned back.

"There's been a stampede, Mister Cartwright," he announced.

Bella was on her feet instantly. "Benjamin?"

"I'm all right, big sister," Ben announced as he too entered the house. Ben looked like he'd been through a whirlwind, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "I haven't ever seen anything so exciting!"

Candy threw her brother a look. "Kids. 'Exciting' ain't exactly the word I would have used."

"Are the cattle settled?" Joe's father asked.

"Yes, sir." Candy hesitated. "We caught 'em all."

The older man nodded. "And you are both all right?"

Bella saw the foreman and her brother exchange a look. Neither responded.

"Well?" the older man demanded.

"Well, we're fine, sir. Trouble is, there was a man got caught up in all the trouble. He's..."

Benjamin snorted. " _He_ ain't too happy."

From outside there came a voice, pitched high, nearly hysterical and definitely piqued.

"Of all of the impossible, brainless, backwoods idiots that I have been forced to endure on this journey, Mister Canady, I swear you are the worst! It wasn't bad enough that I had to be subjected to the indignity of a bovine making a seat of me, but to be forced to ride on the rear of a ferocious animal..."

Candy sniggered. " _Mister_ Canaday," he repeated, lifting one eyebrow and putting on airs.

There was something about that voice. Something familiar that sent shivers up Bella's back.

Candy was scratching his head. "Sorry, Mister Cartwright. I tried to be accommodating. Seems that city slicker just didn't like ridin' on the tale end of that pack horse."

"City slicker?" Bella blinked.

A tall, lean figure with sandy red hair and brown eyes and brows stepped into the house. His elegant suit was covered with noxious brown stains and there were bits and pieces of branches and leaves in his hair.

Ben Cartwright stepped past her. "Candy, who is this?"

Bella sighed. She gritted her teeth and told him.

"This is Raphael Ashton, Michael's brother." The blonde woman's lips pulled into a thin line. "Rafe," she demanded, " _what_ are you doing here?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe sat beside Jamie. It was a funny feeling because it was his room and this was the chair Pa usually occupied while he was waiting for him to wake up after something bad had happened. His little brother was scrunched down under the covers. His breathing was even like he was asleep, but Joe wasn't fooled. He'd pulled that one too many times. Jamie was awake.

He just didn't want to talk to him.

Joe closed his eyes. All of his life he'd been, well, what he would have called self-indulgent. It was a hard word and he knew his father would disagree, though Hoss and Adam might have seen it differently. They would have at least smiled and winked at him, knowing they understood what he meant even if that wasn't the word they would have used.

 _Probably_ the word they wouldn't have used.

He knew some of it had to do with being the baby in the family. He'd been protected and, probably more than he should have been, allowed to have his way. Adam had told him once that, though their pa had loved Elizabeth and Inger, he had doted on his own ma, Marie. Adam's ma had been his pa's first love and Inger, the companion of his journey out west. His ma, the fiery woman from New Orleans, was their pa's prize. The older man had loved her with a love that was as fierce as she'd been and grieved just as deeply when she died.

Joe knew he was all that was left of Marie. He knew his pa saw her when he looked at him. He always had and nothing was going to change that.

So when, as a little boy, he had pulled the same kind of fits his ma had, pushing a little harder than he should, defying his pa's rules, disobeying orders and such, Pa hadn't tanned his hide but smiled. It wasn't that he was a bad man or spoiled or anything like that, but he had kind of come out of it thinking that the world _owed_ him something. And when it didn't deliver, well...

He just hadn't known what to do about it.

Maybe he should have expected it. The West was a hard mistress. His pa had lost three wives. But somehow, he had thought it would be different. When he married Alice, he had expected to lead a happy life, to have a loving wife and a passel of kids that would call him 'Pa'. He wanted to be 'Pa'. He wanted to be to his children what his father was to him. He'd wanted it so bad that when it didn't happen, he'd dropped the reins and let the team run away.

He still wasn't sure if he had the strength to chase them down.

Joe sighed. He glanced at the figure on the bed and said softly, "Jamie, I know you're awake. I don't blame you for not wanting to look at me, but there's nothing you can do to keep from hearing me. I..." He hesitated. " _Sorry_ ain't enough to say. I wish I knew what was."

There was no motion from the figure on the bed.

He scoffed. "You're not foolin' me. I perfected the 'pretend-you're-asleep-and-they'll-all-go-away' technique, you know?"

Jamie shifted then. He had been laying on his back. Now he was on his left side, facing him.

"You know," Joe said, "it seems this medicine I'd been taking, the one the city Doc gave me, might have made me lose my temper, but you know," his smile was chagrined, "I've been losing my temper for years and those pills had nothing to do with it." Joe shifted. He was still in pain, but he didn't care. He leaned forward and touched the boy, like his pa had always touched him. "There's no excuse for those things I said to you. There's no excuse for treating you like I did." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

This was it.

"Can you forgive me?"

Jamie was staring at him. His blue eyes were open but not quite focused. Joe recognized the effects of one of Doc Martin's 'powders'.

"I ain't sore at you, Joe," he said softly.

"Oh?" Joe pursed his lips. "You oughta be."

The boy frowned. "I know you didn't mean for me to get hurt. It's just..."

"Just what?"

Jamie drew a breath. "You scared me, Joe."

He leaned back in the chair, wincing as his injured shoulder contacted the wood. "You want in on a secret?" As Jamie nodded, he continued, "I scared myself too."

The redhead pulled himself up a little higher on the pillows. Joe noted all the cuts he had on him, most of which were healing pretty well due to Hop Sing's ministrations. Jamie just stared at him for a minute and then said, with words way beyond any wisdom he should have had.

"I forgive you, Joe. But can you forgive yourself?"

He was honest. "I don't know."

Jamie scowled. "How come you're so hard on yourself?"

It was a question he'd asked before. Joe shrugged. "I don't know that either."

The boy was silent a moment and then he said, "You know what Hoss told me?"

Joe's eyes teared. He shook his head.

"He told me that when your mama died, you thought it was your fault."

He stiffened. He had never heard this before. "Go on."

"Hoss said after your pa took you in to say goodbye to your ma, you came to sleep with him in his room. You were just a little kid. He told me he wrapped you in his arms and held you, hoping you'd go to sleep. When you didn't, when you kept crying, he asked you what was wrong." Jamie was looking right at him – _through_ him, maybe. "You said if only you had told your mama not to ride that big black horse, she wouldn't have died. Hoss said you were _sure_ it was your fault. All the bad things aren't your fault, Joe. They just happen." Jamie paused. "Hoss told me something else. Do you want to hear it?"

Joe nodded. Slowly.

"It was just before he died. Hoss and I were sitting in the barn working some leather. Braiding it, you know? I was upset because that filly had died. The pretty one with the dappled nose." Jamie's voice was weakening. He could tell the boy was tired. "I said I didn't understand why she had to die and Hoss told me he didn't know why either, but there was a reason. He was sure of that. 'Jamie,' he said, 'there's a reason and a purpose to everythin'. You hear me, just everythin'! We may never know it this side of Heaven, but I'm sure as shootin' sure there is. You just gotta trust.' " The redhead stopped. He waited until he met his stare. "Joe, you gotta believe that too. You just gotta _trust."_

Out of the mouths of babes, he thought.

Joe blinked back tears. He nodded.

This time it was Jamie who reached out to touch him.

He really didn't need to. Jamie had touched him already. Deeply.

In his soul.


	10. Chapter 9

NINE

It was six o'clock before Ben saw his son Joseph again.

Apparently whatever had passed between Joseph and Jamie had worn them both out. Leaving Bella and her young brother with their unexpected guest, he'd gone upstairs and found Joseph asleep in the chair by the boy's bed. Waking him, he had gently – and adamantly – _suggested_ he return to his current room. For once his son had not fought him and, after depositing Joseph on the feather tick and tucking him in like he had when he was a child, Ben had sat by his bed for a short while and they'd talked.

Joe insisted on apologizing for just about everything he'd done and said in the last seven months. He hid it to some extent, but his son felt deep shame for his erratic and at times unkind behavior. He said he'd had time to think about it and he thought Doc Martin was right about the pills. Joseph had gone to Doctor Brandon in order to hide the fact that he was going to anyone, knowing neither he nor anyone else at the Ponderosa would have any knowledge of the Carson City physician's actions. Joe said Doctor Brandon was a kind man and _had_ helped him. For a time they had just talked during his appointments, but when the deep melancholia had refused to lift, the doctor had prescribed the Blue Mass pills. Joseph said that, at first, they seemed to help. He wasn't so miserable or cheerless. But then the anger began. He'd been able to control it for the most part until the month before when the doctor had doubled the dose.

Joe said he had never felt so out of control, not even on the night Alice died.

They had brushed on the subject of Bella's visit briefly. Joe commented that he was happy to see her, but he hoped she didn't think they could take up where they had left off eight years before. He said he was through with that. He confirmed that he was going to stay a bachelor for the rest of his life.

In other words his fearless, daring, devil-may-care son was scared. Scared to love again. Scared to _lose_ again.

Fortunately, that was something Ben knew _all_ about. What his son needed was a helping hand in the right direction.

Well, maybe a _push_.

Ben shifted in his seat and looked down the table at the figures arrayed on either side. To his left sat Bella. Firmly planted between her and Rafe Ashton, who held the place of honor opposite him, was her brother Benjamin. He really liked the boy and hoped to spend more time with him. In many ways Benjamin reminded him of Levi Carnaby. Life had dealt a hard hand to that Carnabys when their father was laid low. He'd been talking to Benjamin about it and they had a plan. He was going to try to talk the family into returning to Virginia City. That way Bella would be near, and he and the boys could lend Levi and Mary a hand. From what Benjamin said Bella's father was better. It was his hope the man could do enough to satisfy his pride while still accepting their help.

Ben shifted back in his seat. His eyes went to his son Joseph where he was seated to his right as he had been for more than thirty years now. Joseph had made the slow descent down the stairs to join them for the first time since the accident. Doctor Martin arrived late in the day and had gone up to see both his boys. The physician put Joe's left arm in a sling, more to remind him to protect his injured shoulder than for any other reason. Joseph looked brighter than he had for some time, but he was still far from himself. His son was quiet. _Very_ quiet. Now and again his eyes would flick to Bella who sat opposite him, but they never lingered long. Joseph didn't enter into the conversation. In truth, he couldn't really blame him.

Rafe Ashton seemed to be the only one talking and it was mostly about himself.

A smile tickled Ben's lips. He remembered his foreman's keen assessment of the man. Candy had used a single word.

Jackass.

Not exactly a polite description but, from what he had observed so far, completely apropos.

Up until now the most amusing moment of the evening had come when Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of steaming food intended for Jamie. Rafe had made a remark, not exactly disparaging, but it was obvious the man from the city had a dislike for the Chinese. Hop Sing bowed deeply as he passed their guest and let loose a long string of Cantonese ending with, 'Special blessing for honored guest.' He heard Joseph snicker. The youngest of his three, of course, knew more Chinese than the rest of them and so he had leaned in and asked Joe what it meant.

"Old Chinese proverb, Pa," Joseph had whispered. "Arguing with a fool is like playing chess with a pigeon. No matter how good you are, the bird is going to take a crap on the board and strut around like it won anyway."

He nearly blew soup out of his nose.

Ben listened a moment to their guest as Rafe regaled his captive audience once again, making sure to point up his wealth and attributes. When the man from the city came up for air, he managed to get in. "I've asked Hop Sing to hold the dessert until a little later. Why don't we retire to the great room for a brandy?"

As he awaited his answer, Ben's eyes locked with Bella's. She had that look – the one a drowning woman has when she's about to go under for the last time.

Ben put his napkin down. As he rose, he remarked quite casually, "Joe, I've missed your expert advice. I have some concerns about which of the shipping lines we should employ to use to move our timber for the army job. Perhaps you could take a look at it."

Joseph gave him about as blank a look as he had ever seen. "Sure, Pa..."

"Mister Cartwright."

Ah, _here_ it came.

With a slightly puzzled look, Ben turned to Rafe. "Yes?"

Rafe stood tall, his back erect; his spine stiff. He wondered for a moment if the man had army training, but then decided if he had it must have been at some boy's school as there was no hint of the common sense of a soldier about him. Bella's brother-in-law had changed his clothes – insisting they burn the ruined ones – and was now wearing an elegant black dots on gray velvet smoking jacket with a wine-colored satin puff tie and a pair of black trousers. Everything about the man dripped self-conceit – or maybe more accurately, self-doubt. It puzzled him. Both Michael and Maynard Ashton had been, from what he remembered, pleasant secure men. Perhaps it was because Rafe was the youngest.

He knew from his own son just how hard it was for the one at the tail end to prove himself.

"As I have a great deal of experience in the shipping business, perhaps _I_ could lend you hand,"

Rafe suggested.

Joseph was still sitting at the table. Rafe's back was to him. As his son realized what he was doing, his eyebrows danced and he smiled. Ben smiled too.

The curly-haired man rose slowly and came to stand beside him. "You know," Joe said, facing Rafe, "facts and figures have never been my strong suit. I'm sure Pa would benefit from your expertise."

If it was possible for Rafe's chest to puff out any farther, it did. Ben was sure, at last, that it had reached its limits.

Joseph ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the tangled silver-gray mass and failing. "I think I'll just go out to the barn, Pa. I'd like to see Cochise. He's an old friend and I've been neglecting him."

A sign of life, he thought.

At last.

"You go ahead. Rafe and I will spend a half hour or so on the books and then we'll have desert."

Bella was watching the three of them and frowning. He could tell she knew he was up to something. Ben cleared his throat, scratched his chin, and inclined his head toward Joseph who was struggling to pull his coat on over his wounded shoulder. For a moment, her frown deepened. Then Bella grinned and nodded.

Hop Sing reappeared at the precise moment he needed him – as usual. The Chinese man had been observing their interaction. After glancing at Joseph who was walking out the door, Hop Sing went to Bella and asked, "Missy Bella go with Hop Sing into kitchen? Help get dessert ready?"

Bella's eyes were still on him. Ben nodded, imperceptibly.

When he had first met her, Bella Carnaby had been a little girl with imps in her eyes.

They were back.

"I would love to, Hop Sing!" she exclaimed. "You two take your time, Mister Ben. I am sure you will be _amazed_ by the knowledge Rafe possesses."

He'd been wrong. The man _was_ capable of puffing his chest outeven further.

As Ben turned toward his desk, he breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, he'd thought Bella wasn't going to figure it out.

Apparently she had forgotten the kitchen had its own door.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe was still grumbling as he entered the barn. Just pulling his coat on had about done him in. He was kind of surprised his pa had even let him attempt it – _and_ didn't rush over to help! Joe's lips twisted in a wry grin. Probably because that fancy Dan was in the room.

Pa would have known he wouldn't have wanted to appear weak in front of Rafe.

The smile didn't fade as he thought of his father. It didn't matter whether it was Jamie at seventeen or him, over thirty, Pa still ruled the Ponderosa roost. He gave the orders and all of them jumped. Maybe it was some kind of character flaw in him that he didn't exert himself more and insist on his own way. When he thought back to Adam at his age, he remembered a man who'd always had his own opinion and locked horns with Pa more often that not. It was why Adam had gone away, he was sure – to be his own man. Hoss hadn't balked at Pa's command or his care. His giant of a brother had been possessed of a quiet simple way of doing things when and where he wanted to and, for the most part, Pa seemed to take that in stride. With him, it had always been, well, like Pa thought he needed to be both his pa _and_ his ma. Pa'd kept him roped in, and though he'd champed at the bit for more years than he could remember, here he was still in the corral. Truth to tell, he could have set off on his own at any time. Pa wouldn't have stopped him. But that was the problem.

He didn't want to be on his own.

When Joe thought about it, he'd never been alone. There had always been someone else there. At first it was his ma and when she died, Hop Sing, along with his pa and brothers. When Adam left, there had still been Pa and Hoss, and then Candy had moseyed along and become almost another brother. Then there was Jamie. When he'd finally chosen to strike out on his own – to marry and build his own house – there had been Alice.

Joe halted just inside the barn. He wondered if he was capable of living on his own. What would he do if there was no one to talk to? Nothing to do?

He snorted. Go stir crazy probably.

Maybe that's why he _was_ crazy.

Cochise shifted in response to his entry and nickered a greeting as he approached. His old friend was getting on in years, just like he was. They'd been through a lot together and these days he often chose other animals when it came to the hard and fast riding. Still, there was a bond between them that went almost past reason. Joe patted his friend's neck and began to brush him using his right hand. He'd been at it about ten minutes when his energy suddenly gave out and he found he needed to sit down. Parking the brush where it belonged, Joe moved into the center of the barn and sank down on a bale of hay. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He felt old as dirt. Pa might have thirty or more years on him, but he still had a spark in his eye and a spring in his step. His were gone.

Just...gone.

He'd been sitting there sometime when he heard it – that swishing that reminded him of his ma.

Joe didn't know how he missed it. She must have moved quiet as an Apache. It wasn't a second later he felt Bella's hand on his shoulder. She stood silently by for a moment and then sat on the bale to his right and laid her head on his good shoulder.

He almost choked, but he managed to ask, "You mean Rafe let you out of his sight?"

Joe hadn't missed the other man's attentions to her. Rafe possessed a lot of things – money, status, ships, and a fair dose of conceit. It was obvious he wanted to possess Bella as well.

She drew in a long breath and let it out in a sigh. "He thinks he loves me."

Joe thought a moment. It seemed an odd thing to say, but he knew it was true. "I imagine he does."

Her head jerked up. She glared at him. "Joe Cartwright! If you think for one minute that I would have anything to do with that – that popinjay! – then you have another think coming! That man is one of the most irritating, obnoxious, idiotic asses I have ever –"

She stopped suddenly. He was laughing.

Bella's jaw was tight. Her eyes teared. "You're making fun of me!"

As she stood up to flee, he caught her hand. "Bella, you didn't hear me right."

When she turned back, her jaw was set. Her deep blue eyes were narrowed and her nostrils flaring. She looked kind of like a bull ready to make a killing charge.

"I said Rafe was in love with _you,_ not that _you_ were in love with him." Joe paused. "How could any man know you and _not_ be in love with you?"

She blinked back tears but didn't move.

After a moment he asked, "Will you _please_ sit down? It's making my shoulder hurt to keep you roped."

Bella's eyes went wide. "Oh, Joe! I'm sorry!"

"Don't be sorry, just sit down."

As she did as he asked, Joe shifted on the bale so he was facing her. He studied her for a moment. The last time he'd seen Bella, other than in a ferrotype, she'd been eighteen and innocent. Life hadn't levied its punishment yet for making it through the years. She'd been like a spring morning, fine-looking, vivacious, and full of a restive energy that bubbled over with chatter and a childlike joy. She was slightly heavier now. Her thin boyish frame had added the pounds in just the right places. The spring morning was there, but it was giving way to summer. She'd matured like a rosebud that had opened to reveal the full color and splendor of what it was to become.

"How are you, Bella?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated. "How are you?"

Joe shook his head. "You first."

Bella's lips twisted as they had when she was a little girl holding that rifle on him and staring at him along its sight. She puffed out a little breath. Finally, she said, "Miserable."

He blinked. It wasn't the answer he had expected. "Miserable?"

She looked at her hands. "I was a fool."

Joe caught her chin in his fingers and lifted her head. When her eyes finally met his, he said, "You could never be a fool."

Bella's small hand covered his. "Yes, I was. I ran. I ran from _you,_ Joe. I was so afraid I would lose you that I was afraid to _have_ you – to commit to loving you!" Her fingers moved to his face. "I have regretted it every hour, every _second_ since then."

He was growing uncomfortable. "Bella, I can't... I can't love you in that way. Not after..." He sucked in air. "Not after what happened."

She batted her lashes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Why? Because _you're_ afraid?" She took his hands in her own and pressed them hard. "Joe, if I have learned one thing, it is that we have to take the moment we are given. We can't base what we do on what may be, only on what _is_." She held his gaze. "If someone said to you, I can take away your pain, but you won't remember the happiness you had, would you do it? Would you choose to erase Alice from your memory? To forget all that you had together?"

At first he meant to say 'yes', but then images began to flood his mind, not images of Alice dying or of the child he had lost, but of that shy smile his wife had, of the way she looked at him; of the joy she had felt when she told him she was with child. He remembered sitting by her in the meadow, talking about their future and her past, knowing that he was rescuing her, bringing joy to her by loving her, and that she was rescuing him too from a life alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

Slowly, he admitted. "No. No, I wouldn't want to forget her, even if it meant there would be no more pain."

She nodded. "It's the same with Michael. Oh, I didn't love him like I love you." Bella beamed. "And I do love you. But I loved him, I guess, like a second father. Michael took care of me and my family. I was truly sad when he died." She paused. An odd look flickered across her face. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," he said.

"Once, after Michael and I made love..." Her eyes flicked to him to make certain it was all right to go on. He nodded. "I was laying in his arms and he said, 'Tell me about him.' " Bella bit her lip. "I said, 'About who?' And you know what he said, Joe?"

He did, but he said he didn't.

"Michael said, 'Tell me, child, about the man you love.' " She smiled at him through her tears. "And so I told him. I told him about handsome Joe Cartwright with his chestnut-brown hair and emerald eyes, with his high-pitched giggle and fiery temper. Joe Cartwright whom I had met when my parents pulled him bound and beaten out of that burning building. I told him about Joe Cartwright who was my one true love – who _had_ to be since Josie and the moon and that yellow flower said so. I told Michael about coming to visit you and knowing I was going to marry you, and then..." She swallowed. "Then I told him about Fleet Rowse and how scared I was that you were going to die, and how I _ran_..."

Joe said nothing for a moment. "I'm sorry I never met him," he said at last. "He sounds like a good man. I'm glad he found you and you found him."

Bella was holding his hands tightly. She looked into his eyes. "On his deathbed Michael told me to find you. He told me..." She straightened up. "He told me I would be a fool if I let you go again, and _you_ would be a bigger fool if you let _me_ go."

Joe knew when he was beaten.

He laughed and shook his head. "Bella, you know what? You're a force of nature. There's no stopping you."

Bella scooted in closer to him. "So," she asked softly, "do I go in the house and tell Rafe Ashton that Joe Cartwright is a fool?"

Joe hesitated only a moment. He shifted slightly, easing the pain in his back, and then drew her into his arms. And then, with a passion he thought lost, a fire that he thought had been consumed and gone out forever, he kissed her.

Joe ran his hand along her face and stared into those wide dark blue eyes.

"I love you, Bella," he said. Then he added, with a smile, "It's been four or five years. Did you ever find that other feller?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

"So," he asked with a shy grin, "you think you might want to marry me some day?"

Bella drew in a breath. "Well, I'd have to think about it."

She caught him off guard. "You...what?"

Her laughter was a balm to his soul.

"Idiot."

Then she kissed him back.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben had just stepped out onto the porch to look for his son when he saw Bella and Joe coming hand in hand from the barn. A sense of movement in the shadows behind them caught his attention, but he put it down to the autumn wind that was rising, to a branch shifting and casting odd shadows. It looked as if winter might, after all, be on its way.

'No', he thought, a smile breaking on his face as he turned his attention to the pair. Life was beginning again.

It must be spring.

Ben glanced behind and shook his head. He'd finally managed to free himself from Rafe Ashton and his ideas. Well, no, that wasn't the right word for it either. He'd been _rescued._ Rafe had headed for the kitchen looking for Bella, remarking as he went that he had never known it to take anyone so long to prepare dessert. The last half hour had been one of the most tiring and exasperating he had ever spent. Though, from the looks of the pair approaching him, it had been worth it. He'd waited from the man from the city to return but instead it had been Hop Sing.

"'Mister Rafe busy." The man from China made a shooing motion. "You go find Little Joe and Missy Bella."

When Hop Sing told him what he'd done, Ben had bellowed until the rafters shook.

Before he could say anything to Joe or Bella, the door behind him opened. It was with relief that he saw Bella's young brother standing there.

"Is everything in order?" the older man asked with a wry smile.

"I don't know, Mister Cartwright," Benjamin said with a shake of his head. "I don't think your larder's ever gonna be the same.

Hop Sing had Rafe trapped in the kitchen. Their cook had played into Ashton's prejudice by pretending he was too stupid to open the lock on the larder. When Rafe did it for him, he asked the man from the city to get something for him from a tall shelf he couldn't reach and then, after he stepped in, locked the door behind him.

Benjamin came to a halt beside him. "You think those two are going to be okay?" he asked, his concern for his sister obvious.

The older man shot him a look. "What do you think?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably. He shrugged and then a grin broke across his face. "I don't want to lose my sister, but you know what? I think she's home at last."

Ben nodded as he turned back to face his son. Joseph was pale. He was leaning heavily on Bella. Letting him out of the house had been dubious wisdom at best. Still, there was something about him – about the way Joseph held his body, about the look out of his eyes, that said – at last – he had chosen to live.

"And what have you two been up to?" Ben asked, hiding his smile.

Joe glanced at Bella and then met his gaze. "Just catchin' up, Pa."

"Catching up?" He kept his tone stern.

"Yeah." Joe pulled Bella a little closer. Her arms went around his waist. She was smiling. "Seems Bella never really found herself another feller. You taught me right, Pa. I made her a promise and I've gotta keep it."

He remembered that day so long ago when his young son, charmed by the endless chatter and enthusiasm of an eleven-year-old Bella Carnaby, had promised her that one day they would marry. He'd warned him then that, to her, it was a solemn promise and that, if he didn't mean to keep it, he needed to make that clear to her. Joseph had tried and failed. Bella had been in love with his son from the moment they met. His son had fallen for her on her second visit, but then it had been Bella who, terrified by events, had put an end to it. Bella who had run.

Bella Carnaby Ashton, who had come back.

A lot stood between them. Bella was no longer that little mischievous girl. She had married for all the wrong reasons and had buried the man who took her in and loved her even though he knew she didn't love him. Joseph had lost his brother, Alice and his child, and been tortured by William Tanner. There was a lot of healing to do, but it would happen now.

It would happen because neither one of them was alone.

As they reached the porch, Bella kissed his son on the cheek and then looked at him. "I have something I need to do, Mister Ben. Can you watch Joe for me?"

His son scowled. "I don't need watching."

The blonde woman turned, hands on hips, and faced him. "I know you, Joe Cartwright. You're about to fall down and you're just too stubborn to admit it! You need to go inside by the fire and get warm."

Joe favored him with a look. "Pa, aren't you going to rescue me?"

Ben shook his head. "I think you are in _quite_ capable hands."

Joe had taken hold of the rail and was stepping onto the porch. As Bella passed him, aimed at the door, she paused to listen.

"What's that?" she asked.

A long string of Cantonese. A high-pitched whine and a string of words that would have made a sailor blush.

"I think Rafe and Hop Sing are getting to know one another," he said dryly.

Bella giggled. She looked at his son and smiled. "Back in a second!"

As Bella disappeared into the house, Ben moved forward to take hold of Joseph's good arm. His son glanced at him, defiant, and then relented and let him lead him into the house and to the settee where he practically fell into its soft embrace.

Bella was nowhere to be seen.

"Where do you suppose she went?" Joe asked, truly puzzled.

The older man shrugged. "You have a lot to learn about women if you expect to know."

Joe was silent a minute. "Well," he said at last, his voice soft, "I guess being a confirmed bachelor ain't in my future."

"Isn't."

His son looked at him. Then he laughed. "Ain't."

At that moment Bella reappeared. She came down the stairs slowly, her eyes on Joe, and then went to sit beside him on the settee. Ben felt like he was intruding.

"Perhaps I should go rescue Rafe," he suggested.

"It's okay, Pa," Joe said, his eyes on Bella. "We're family."

Bella drew a breath. She hesitated and then started to speak. "Someone is missing. Someone I wish could have shared this with us."

Ben frowned. He glanced at Joe. Neither of them had any idea where she was going with this.

Bella held her hand out and opened it. In it was a small ring made of silver paper. It was tarnished and rumpled, but he knew what it was. When Bella had come to the Ponderosa some eight years before, Hoss had been alive. It was he who had opened the envelope telling them that Bella was on her way to see them. It was Hoss who had pocketed the small silver ring meant for Joe that had fallen out of the envelope and kept it until Fleet Rowse was captured and no longer a threat to the pair before him. Hoss who had returned it to Bella before she left. Apparently, she'd kept it all these years.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she held the ring out to his son. Joseph took it. He slipped it on her finger and asked, "Bella Carnaby, will you marry me?"

Ben turned away with tears in his eyes as the pair kissed and went to free what he knew was going to be one irate city slicker.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Outside the Ponderosa ranch house a figure stirred. The tall powerful man left area of the porch and returned to the shadows beside the barn. Joe Cartwright and his woman had been so busy looking at each other as the walked across the yard that they'd failed to see him. Ben Cartwright had missed him too.

The old man was going to regret that.

You see, he'd been listening. It looked like Joe Cartwright's life was going to go on bein' charmed. He'd lost his woman, but now he had another even prettier one. In spite of everything the golden boy was going to have his golden life with everything he wanted.

In a pig's eye.

The man drew a breath and held it as he looked around the yard. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he was going to do something. Something _big._ Since _his_ life had been ruined, he sure as Hell was going to ruin the life of the man who had done it to him.

He'd already tried once and failed. He'd thought Joe Cartwright was on that cattle drive when he fired his pistol and sent the steers running. He'd hoped they'd run over him and crush the life out of him like Cartwright had crushed his hopes when he got him fired. He wasn't a coward. He'd have been just as happy to snap the man's spine with his bare hands, but snapping a man's spine meant a noose around your neck.

A stampede. An accident at a logging camp. A fall from a horse or maybe, just maybe, a house burning down. No one could blame you for that. It was just bad luck.

Joe Cartwright seemed to have that in spades _as well_.


	11. Chapter 10

TEN

Rafe Ashton decided to stay for the wedding.

It had come as a surprise to them all. He had been quite subdued since his initial outburst of anger when he heard Joe and Bella would marry. It was as if he had finally been told 'no' and he was having to come to grips with the fact that wealth and power and things were not always enough to assure that one got what one wanted. That there were things more important – humility, sacrifice.

Love.

This morning Rafe had set out with Benjamin and Jamie on a less than grand tour of the ranch. Jamie had been confined to the house for the two weeks that had passed since Joe had asked Bella to marry him and the boy was fairly bucking at the rail to get back to his normal life. During the last fourteen days he and Benjamin had struck up a friendship. He was sure they would have rather gone alone, but the pair had been gracious enough to include Rafe.

Maybe the fresh air and the sight of the land would lift the poor man's spirits.

The two young people in the house who had no need of their spirits being lifted sat at the breakfast table side by side talking quietly. Joe's wounds were almost healed – well, nearly all of them. Doc Martin had examined him the night before and declared his left arm had been compromised by the damage the wire had done to the nerves in his shoulder. It seemed Joe's days as one of the fastest draws in the West were over.

Ben sighed. Thank God!

There had been great debate over when to set the wedding. Once he had decided he no longer wanted to be a bachelor, Joe had been eager to take the plunge. Bella had been too, but she wanted to share her happiness with her parents and so the two had agreed to wait a month. By that time it would be mid-December. So far the snows had held off, but they were soon to come. The Carnabys – Levi and Mary, Sophie and even Jack, home from college for the holidays – were all on their way. It was his hope to persuade them to stay. He had a small house in town, bought as an investment on a whim, that he thought would be just right for Bella's family. He'd mentioned it to her and she agreed she would do everything she could to get her father to agree.

Meaning, she was going to get her mother to persuade him.

Ben smiled at the thought and then approached the table.

"And what are you two up to?" he asked.

"Details," Joe replied.

He said the word like it was one that should get his mouth washed out with soap.

"Details?" the older man repeated, hiding his smile. " _Wedding_ details?"

His son gave him a helpless look. "Are there any other kind?"

Poor Joe. Growing up in a household with five men and no women. Even though he had had time with Alice, he still had a lot to learn. Alice had been a simple girl and their wedding a simple affair. Bella reminded him of Joe's mother in that she loved beauty. The young woman loved floral arrangements and piano throws and Battenberg lace anamacasters on the chairs. In the two weeks she had had reign Bella had transformed the ranch house from the sober but welcoming castle he had created into the home he remembered.

The one he remembered from when Joe had been a little boy.

Ben glanced at his soon-to be daughter-in-law. One thing Bella had was taste. She was dressed today in a stunning royal blue walking suit with a small back bustle to the skirt and jacket. The color matched her eyes. Her ladies boater hat and fan lay on the table beside her. Once the, er, _details_ they were discussing were ironed out, Joe was going to drive her to town to the dressmaker's for a fitting.

The older man leaned over his son's shoulder. He smiled as he saw a way to rescue him.

"You're working on the food to be served?" Ben asked. He was still astonished that Hop Sing had allowed Bella to set the menu. It was a mark of his affection for the young woman. In fact, Hop Sing's affections had even gone so far as to allow her to cook in his kitchen.

Would wonders never cease?

Bella nodded. She was chewing on a pencil and looking at a long list. "Hop Sing said he would be picking up the supplies tomorrow. He insists on getting them on his own or we could do it today." She glanced at his son. "Joe, we need to finish this before we leave so he knows how much to buy."

"You're just working on the numbers?" Ben asked.

"What she's working on is driving me crazy," Joe grumbled, though his smile was loving. "I tried to get Bella to go to the justice of the peace with me and forget all this nonsense. You know what she told me Pa?"

He shook his head.

"Nonsense makes the world go 'round."

She was right.

"Why don't you let me take care of this?" Ben asked. "I've been working with numbers for longer than either of you have been alive." He winced. "Maybe longer than the two of you added together."

For a second he thought she was going to argue. Bella was nothing if not stubborn. Almost as stubborn as Joe.

Theirs was going to be an _interesting_ marriage.

Joe wrapped his arm around Bella's shoulders. "I've got work to do in the stable later, so we need to head back right after your fitting. If we go now, we'd have time to eat lunch at the International House."

The blonde woman smiled. "I'd like that."

"I would too," his son said as he gave Bella a little squeeze. "I haven't had many opportunities to show you off and, pardon me Pa, but you look _damn_ fine today!"

"Pardoned but not absolved," Ben deadpanned.

Joe glanced at him and then, he giggled.

' _Oh, Lord'_ , _thank you_ ,' the older man thought as the couple rose from their chairs and Joe headed for Bella's coat that hung on the coat rack by the tall case clock. They'd been forced to bring it downstairs in to accommodate her voluminous outerwear. ' _Thank you. Thank you for this woman. Thank You for saving my son.'_

"You need anything in town, Pa?" Joe asked as he donned his own heavy coat.

"No," he replied. "No, son, there isn't."

He had everything he needed here.

Joe winced at the look Bella shot his way. He had shifted his shoulder, trying to ease the pain in it. Even though near four weeks had passed since he'd injured it, there were times it still hurt like the dickens. He tried to hide it from her and managed it most of the time. The curly-haired man's lips twisted with pleasure. It was a little hard to do when he had his shirt off and Bella's arms were wrapped around his back. They hadn't made love yet. Somehow, they both knew that was for their wedding night. But it hadn't stopped them from, well, enjoying each other's company. When they did, Bella had a tendency to kiss his scars. He thought it was a little odd, but then again, that was what he had come to expect.

Women were a _whole_ different country.

"Are you in pain?" Bella asked as her hand went to his shoulder and she started to rub it with a circular motion.

"Stiff more than sore," he answered. Which was kind of the truth. When Paul told him about his shoulder and arm, he'd been upset. He'd prided himself for more than half of his life about being fast with a gun. Then he'd thought about the life he had planned with Alice – marrying, building his own place, having children. ' _God moves in mysterious ways,_ ' he remembered singing in church. Maybe this was God's way of telling him one life was over and another begun.

Joe glanced at his hip. He wasn't wearing his handgun. It had been a conscious choice to bring a rifle instead. A rifle was for protection. A handgun, well, it was too, but it sent a message that offered a challenge. Turning his eyes to the precious cargo beside him, he knew he wanted nothing to do with anything that might bring Bella harm.

His days of flying off the handle and leaping before he looked were over.

"Joe."

He glanced at Bella and then followed her gaze. There was a tree fallen on the road. Since they were in a buggy, they couldn't go around it.

"Now what do we do?" she asked.

He looked at the sky. The sun was shining down. They were only about an hour from the ranch house. It was early morning still and the day was crisp and cold. Winter had arrived, but fortunately, so far, there had been little precipitation. The branches of the trees were bare and the grass was brown. In fact, Pa had said just the night before he hoped it either rained or snowed soon. He was worried about someone being careless and something sparking amidst the dead things and starting a fire.

With a smile, he leaned in and kissed his wife-to-be's pouting lips. "After thirty-plus years of living out west, I wouldn't be worth my salt if I didn't come prepared." He laughed at her expression. "I got an axe in the back. It won't take much time to clear it."

"Be careful."

As Joe climbed out of the buggy and headed for the back, he sighed. He had a feeling he was going to hear that phrase for the rest of his life.

After palming the axe, he stopped by the buggy seat to drop his heavy coat onto it. A cold wind hit him, chilling him to the bone, but he knew the moment he started chopping he would be too hot. The coat was bulky too and would encumber him.

"You just sit there looking pretty," he told Bella.

She nodded, but said nothing.

Joe frowned. "Is something wrong?"

This time she shook her head. "I just want to get to town."

"Me too," he replied with a smile. "There's a great big steak at the International House with my name on it."

Joe rolled up his sleeves and then headed for the tree. He began by stripping some of the smaller branches off so he had a clear place to put the axe and then began to hack the small tree trunk in two. He worked himself into a rhythm, raising the axe, bringing it down, striking the wood, and then raising it again. As he worked, he began to hum. It was an old tune Hoss had taught him called 'Sky Ball Paint'. His giant of a brother had loved to sing it while they worked. He'd join in and the two of them would add extra verses and then shout to the heavens the chorus of 'Singin' hi ho, whoopee ti yo. Ride him high and down you go, sons of the western soil.'

Still thinking of Hoss, Joe paused to run a sleeve over his forehead. As he did, he glanced at the buggy to see if Bella was watching him.

She was gone.

He puzzled a moment and then decided she had probably felt the call of nature. He knew from experience it took women a heck of a long time to do what needed to be done, so he turned back to his work and began this time to sing.

 _So I swore, by heck, I'd break his neck_

 _for the jolt he gave my pride._

 _I threw my noose on that old cayuse_

 _And once more took a ride._

 _He turned around and soon I found_

 _his head where his tail should be_

 _So I sez, sez I, perhaps he's shy_

 _Or he just don't care for me._

 _Singin' hi ho, whoopee ti yo,_

 _Ride him high and down you go,_

 _Sons of the western soil._

Joe heard it a second before it happened. The sound of a bullet being levered into a rifle's chamber. Before he could turn, a searing pain ripped through his shoulder and he fell face-first onto the tree and then rolled off of it to the ground. As he lay there on his back, breathing hard, a shadow covered him, cast by a monster of a man he knew all too well.

Abel Ramsey. The man who'd near beaten him to death. The man Pa'd fired because of it.

The man who was going to kill him.

The rifle barrel rested against his forehead. Joe kept his eyes open and glared every bit of hate he had in him at the man. At least Bella got away, he told himself. She must have, otherwise Ramsey would be parading her before him. He was that kind of a man. He'd want to hurt him as much as he could before he took his life.

Yeah, Bella was safe. She _had_ to be safe.

Of course, he knew she wasn't.

There was no way in Hell she would have left him.

Ramsey was enjoying every minute of it. "I bet you're wondering where your pretty little friend is," he said.

"If you've hurt her..." Joe growled.

"You'll do what, Cartwright? You ain't got a hope in Hell of stopping me." Abel's lips curled in a sneer. "If you wonderin', I ain't killed her." As Joe sighed, the monster added, "Just like I ain't gonna kill you."

Joe swallowed. "Somehow that barrel resting on my head says different."

"The way I figure it, Cartwright, someone came along and shot you. Your woman left you to go find help. Ended up she went the wrong way."

He was on the road . If Ramsey left him, he could make it. He could go back home for help.

"Trouble is," Ramsey said as he shifted the rifle away from his head and toward his chest, "you tried to follow her and somewhere along the way, you bled out. Get up, Cartwright, time to get movin'."

As he struggled to his knees, Joe asked, "Where's Bella?"

Abel nodded toward the woods. "Got her on my horse, thrown over the saddle." His grin was evil. "Ain't the most proper way for a lady to travel, but it'll do."

"What do you mean to do with her?" he demanded.

Ramsey's smile became lascivious. "Now, I ain't rightly decided. Maybe show her what a _real_ man is before I kill her." The rifle returned to the level of his head. "I see it in your eyes, Cartwright. You want me dead. Trouble is, I got your gun."

The bullet had passed from the back to the front and through his right shoulder. He was bleeding from both sides. His heavy coat was in the buggy and he was covered with sweat. Already the sum total of those things were beginning to tell.

Joe felt exhausted.

"Get moving, Cartwright, or I might just change my mind about my timing and put you two lovers in the same grave."

The afternoon was ending and still Joe and Bella had not appeared. Ben stood on the porch looking toward town. He knew his son had wanted to deal with the mess the tackle in the stable was in before supper. Joe had told him a few pieces needed to be mended before the men went out again. He could have turned it over to one of the hands, but Joe was very particular about the tools of his trade and preferred to do it himself.

Benjamin and Jamie, along with a weary and saddle-sore Rafe Ashton, had returned midday. Candy had come to check on things and he had agreed to join the others for an early supper as they were all starved. The four of them were inside now. He and Hop Sing had eaten a late lunch alone just about an hour before.

It was interesting to watch the change in the young man from the city. Like one of those winds that arose suddenly with killing force and then petered away to nothing, the bluster had gone out of him. He'd know men like that before, so unsure of what they knew that all they could do was pronounce loudly that they knew everything. More and more he was beginning to see that Rafe had felt less a man than his father and brother; perhaps had even had such high expectations put on him as a boy that he felt he could never measure up. Rafe had actually been _listening_ instead of talking as Candy and the others explained to him the finer points of running a ranch.

Apparently the wonders were just going to keep coming.

Ben heard the door open behind him and watched as Jamie stepped out onto the porch. The boy still bore the scars of his battle with the barbed wire, but mostly he was mended. It did his heart good to know that things were mended between the redhead and his older brother as well.

"No sign of Joe?" Jamie asked as he stopped at his side.

Ben shook his head. "No, and I am beginning to worry."

At this point Adam would have scolded him, telling him his little brother could take care of himself. Hoss would have looked worried, but agreed. They would have told him he was a worry-wart and he had to remember that Joe was a man now and not a boy like the one who stood beside him.

"Do you want me to saddle the horses?" that boy said.

No argument. No scolding. Just a deep love and concern for his big brother. Sadly, like him, Jamie's life had been marked by tragedy.

Ben placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "They could have decided to spend the night in town. There's probably nothing to worry about."

"But you don't think so." The redhead paused and then added, "Joe told me he wanted me here to work on the tackle today, like it was real important."

Implying that something, indeed, had gone wrong.

Ben looked at the sky. There were, perhaps, three, maybe four hours of light left. Long enough to track the buggy's progress and make sure Joe and Bella had been on their way to town, if not enough to follow and find them. He would feel mighty foolish if he and Jamie rode into Virginia City and found the pair enjoying a leisurely late meal at the International House.

As he hesitated, the door opened and Candy, followed by Benjamin Carnaby stepped out. Candy was instantly on the alert.

"Something wrong?" his foreman asked.

The older man shook his head. "Joe and Bella are late returning."

"Pa's worried something's happened," Jamie blurted out, spilling his secret.

Candy's smile was a tolerant and knowing one. "I was thinking about taking Benjamin and Rafe to town and sitting in on that poker game that's been going on now for a week non-stop. Things will just be getting going around midnight." As he spoke, Ashton too appeared. "Rafe here says he plays a mean hand of poker."

Ben's eyes went to Bella's brother. _He_ was either very old or Benjamin was _very_ young.

Probably both.

Candy knew what he was thinking. "Little Ben's just gonna watch. Aren't you?"

" _Little_ Ben?"

Bella's brother shrugged. "They decided they had to have some way to tell whether people were talking about you or me." He paused and then grinned. "It's okay. It's a good name."

Big Ben looked at the four eager faces before him. They didn't fool him for a minute. They were all just as worried about Bella and Joe as he was.

"All right," he said at last. "Saddle the horses. I'll have Hop Sing pack some grub." Ben glanced over his shoulder at both the dying light and the path leading out of the yard. "If nothing else, we'll make camp and enjoy ourselves."

Joe opened his eyes and groaned. For a moment he had no idea where he was and then he remembered – he remembered Abel Ramsey's rifle in the hollow of his back. He remembered Bella's desperate stare as she lifted her head from the horse's side and watched him trudge along, half out of his head from dehydration and loss of blood. He had no idea how many hours they'd walked. It had been morning when he'd stopped to chop the tree that blocked the road and it was growing dark rapidly, so he was guessing somewhere around eight hours. He'd fallen several times, even losing consciousness once or twice. The last time he'd just wanted to lay there and die. But Ramsey would have none of it. He'd slapped his face and forced him to his feet and told him to start walking again, threatening to kill Bella if he didn't.

So he walked.

At this point he knew _he_ was done. His only hope was to rescue Bella, so she could live. All the time he'd walked, he'd been thinking of what he could do, though lately his head was so muddled it was hard. He'd talked with God during the long march, coming close to cursing Him. How much could one man be expected to take? Why the _Hell_ had He let this happen? In the end he'd fallen just short of curses, but he'd made sure God knew he was gonna be well and _done_ with Him if he let anything happen to Bella.

God had let Alice die. He couldn't let it happen again.

Joe glanced up at Abel Ramsey. The man was riding behind Bella. One hand held her waistband and the other, the rifle that was pointed at him. Bella had tried to escape once. Ramsey's answer had been to fire a bullet so close to his head that he'd felt the heat of it sear his skin.

She'd been real quiet after that.

He wondered where they were going and why. About halfway through the day Ramsey had bandaged his shoulder so the bleeding would stop and he would be able to keep his feet longer. Joe's jaw tightened. He had a sick feeling about it. As much as Ramsey wanted to kill him, he wanted to _hurt_ him even more.

He was afraid Ramsey was going to kill Bella and make him watch.

Tired of the game, Joe called out to the madman who held them. His voice cracked from fatigue and lack of water. "Where are you taking us?" he demanded.

Ramsey's grin was evil. "I got me an idea after I seen you with your woman. I hear tell you're gettin' married. I figure the two of you need a home since your other one burned down." He inclined his head. "There's one right ahead."

Joe scowled. They'd been traveling north, he could tell by the sun. The only thing that lay in that direction was the old line shack where, once upon a time, Bella had spent a few nights with a pony named Freckles.

"The line shack," he said.

"I'm gonna take your woman inside, Cartwright, and light a fire and make it nice and toasty warm." The monster's eyes gleamed. " _Real_ toasty warm."

The nightmare returned. Only _this_ time it was Bella's face at the window, screaming for him to save her as her pale white skin blackened and peeled away and her hair turned to flame.

Joe wasn't sure what he could do to free her, but he knew full well he wasn't going to be able to do anything under the threat of Ramsey's gun. He looked at Bella only to find she was watching him. Those big blue eyes of hers amazed him. There was no fear in them.

Only trust.

Joe drew a breath. He knew this land as well as the back of his hand since he and Hoss had played here as boys. He was hoping Ramsey didn't. Behind him there was a slope running down to a creek. A little ways along the creek was a big old tree with roots reaching out over the water where he could hole up until Ramsey stopped looking for him.

He'd have to swim for it. It was a gamble whether he could make it or not. Odds were he couldn't – not alone.

Between gritted teeth Joe whispered a prayer. Well, maybe it was less saying a prayer than issuing a demand.

"God you keep me goin' until she's safe. You get me to that shack in time."

Joe looked skyward as if waiting for an answer.

Then he dropped, rolled, and plummeted over the side.

Not a day went by when he didn't miss Hoss, but at times like these – when they needed the best of trackers – Ben was reminded of another gaping hole his middle son's death had left in their lives. Not that Candy wasn't good. He was. And Candy loved his son, he knew it.

But no one, not even him, had loved Joe like Hoss.

They'd found the buggy abandoned by the road. Neither Joe or Bella was in sight. A large dark stain on the ground boded nothing but ill. Unfortunately, the light was fading and soon they would not be able to make out anything. If they went on, he knew, it would be on a wing and a prayer.

They were going to go on.

"Anything?" he asked, his jaw tight.

Candy was stooping on the ground. He fingered something and then rose. With a sigh, he admitted, "There's a trail of blood heading north. Joe's on foot."

There was something in his foreman's tone that told him that was not all of it.

"And?"

"There's a rider. The horse is heavy, so I'm thinking there's two. There's something odd about the way the hooves have dug in." Candy scratched his head. "I'm thinking one rider and someone who's bein' carried."

"Against their will?" he asked.

Candy winced and shot a look toward the two men and the boy who hovered nearby. Rafe was ashen white. Benjamin had barely any more color. Jamie, well, Jamie was scared but he was also determined.

"Do you think it's Bella?" his adopted son asked, his voice hushed by concern.

"It makes sense," Ben admitted. "What I don't understand is that, even if some man wanted to take Bella, for whatever reason, why make Joe walk? Especially if he is wounded. That's the act of a madman."

"Or someone who really hates Joe," Candy said.

Ben looked at his foreman. His pallor beat Little Ben's and Rafe's.

"Candy? What are you thinking?"

The brown-haired man ran a hand across his cheek. He shrugged. "I ain't got any proof."

"Tell me anyway."

"I was in the saloon the other night. There was this guy, blowin' off about gettin' even with Joe." His foreman's blue eyes fastened on his. "It was Abel Ramsey." Candy looked sick. "I didn't have time to tell Joe about it yet since I didn't see him today."

Ramsey. The ranch hand he had shamed in front of all the men . The one he had fired for trying to kill his son.

"Good God." Ben drew a breath. It shook as it was expelled. "You said they are heading north. Why? There's nothing there."

"What about that shack we saw when we rode through?" Little Ben asked. "That's something, isn't it?"

He and Candy exchanged a look. The line shack was such a part of their lives that the considered it almost part of the landscape. Bella's brother, fortunately, saw things differently.

"Yes..." he replied. If Ramsey was headed for the shack, they had a chance. He could find it in the dark and so could his foreman. But it meant abandoning any tracks that might be there and heading blindly into the dark that was fast encroaching.

"It's going to be rough," the older man said at last, looking at Rafe and Benjamin. "You two are not used to the country. Perhaps you should turn back. Jamie can take you back to the ranch."

Jamie bristled, but he saw the boy would be obedient. Still, he knew the men's answer before they gave it. Rafe, so much changed, said it for them. "You'd have to bind our hands and feet to keep us from following."

"All right. Mount up then." Ben looked at Candy. "I'll lead the way. You bring up the rear."

The brown-haired man nodded and headed for his horse.

Ben turned to look at the imposing forested land before them. If Joe had fallen by the wayside, they would ride right past him. By the time they doubled back his wound coupled with the exposure to the cold would, most likely, have taken his life.

The older man's eyes lifted to the sky. It was all in His plan. He knew it. He had told his boys that for years. There was some reason this stain of evil had come into the fabric of the beautiful life he had envisioned for his boy and Bella Carnaby.

Before the night was over, he hoped he knew what it was.


	12. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

"Hey, Joe. You gotta wake up."

Joe moaned. He was both too hot and too cold. His shoulder was on fire and his legs were like ice and he just wished he had the energy to tell whoever it was that was trying to wake him to go to Hell.

Moaning again, he curled into a ball and whimpered instead.

"Go...way..."

"Dang it! If you ain't the laziest thing this side of Reno! What do I got to do, come down there and drag your sorry hiney out of trouble?"

Down...there.

Where?

Where was...down there?

"Joe, you gotta move." Worry colored the voice as whoever had spoken came closer. A second later Joe felt fingers comb through his muddy hair and then land lightly on his injured shoulder. "I know you're hurtin', boy, but there ain't much time. Joe, come on. Bella needs you. She needs you _real_ bad."

Bella.

Needs.

Me.

With a groan, Joe forced open his eyes. There was a man – a _big_ man bending over him making a _'tsking'_ sound with his tongue. The bulk of his massive form blocked out the blinding light that bathed the forest all around them. Joe scowled. Abel Ramsey was big, but this wasn't Ramsey. If it had been, the man wouldn't have been trying to get him to his feet. He'd be looking down the barrel of a gun instead of into a beefy face framed in concern.

A familiar beefy face.

An _impossibly_ familiarbeefy face.

Maybe _he_ was dead.

But then, if he was, all the preachers he'd ever heard had lied. They all said the Good Book promised there'd be no more pain when you got to Heaven and he was in a _heck_ of a lot of pain.

"You c...can't be real..." he finally managed to stutter.

The big man snorted. "If you ain't the orneriest cuss, little brother. You can see me. You can _hear_ me. How is it I cain't be real?"

Joe swallowed over a grief not yet a year old. "Because you're...dead."

His brother Hoss shifted back on his haunches. The big man lifted the white ten gallon hat on his head and pushed it back, revealing his thinning hairline. He looked much the same, but younger. Or maybe it was healthier – more vital.

"Well, now, there's dead and there's dead, little brother. I just ain't dead like you understand the word."

Joe's head was swimming. What other way _was_ there to understand the word?

"You see, to me, Little Joe, you're the one who ain't quite livin' yet. You're down here on Earth where things are pretty uncertain. Where you get a just about a day of happiness for every year of sufferin'." Hoss paused and then he chuckled. "Course you always got more than your fair share."

Joe pulled himself up a bit so he could look directly at the man addressing him. It had to be Hoss. No one else had that cherubic face holding a pair of crisp blue eyes bright as the sky. No one could look so damned content no matter the fact that it was numbingly cold and he was kneeling on a muddy bank knee-deep in wet grass.

"How?" Joe rasped.

He was kneeling too – well, _lying_ was more like it, except he was only _half_ on the bank. The other half was immersed in icy water. He'd plunged into the creek and made it to the tree and hidden among its roots for nearly a half-hour while Abel Ramsey searched the area. Once the man had disappeared over the top, he'd managed to swim the few feet to the bank, but that was as far as he got. He'd laid there looking up – _giving_ up – even though he knew he had to make it up the side of the hill. A prayer had escaped his lips, but it seemed to no avail. _God_ , he'd pleaded, _I have to find the strength. I have to follow Ramsey! I've gotta get Bella away from that madman before he kills her or..._

The horrific scene he hadn't witnessed but could not forget flashed before Joe's eyes. Alice fighting off the men who killed her as they had their way with her. Her body had been burnt beyond recognition, so there had been no way to tell, but he knew... Joe sucked in air, suddenly feeling like he might drown.

Even though she was pregnant, he _knew_ what they had done.

"Joe. Joe!"

Blinking his eyes to free his lashes of tears and mud, Joe looked up. "Yeah?"

"There's somethin' you gotta learn little brother. And you gotta learn it quick." Hoss paused. "You gotta stop over-thinkin' things like Adam."

That was _not_ what he had expected to hear.

"Somewhere's along the way, Joe, you started thinkin' like our big brother. Broodin', you might say. It don't suit you."

"What? ... _what?"_

"The Man upstairs, Joe, Him and me have had some talks about you. He's got somethin' mighty special in mind for you and yours. That's why you're the one still with Pa." Hoss let out a sigh. "But Joe, you gotta make the choice to grab that future. You gotta make it now!" The big man thought a moment. "Remember how you was when we was kids? There was no holdin' you back, boy! You'd find a way when the rest of us had decided there wasn't any – maybe just _'cause_ we decided it." Hoss reached down. His big hand cupped his face. "You gotta make a way now, Joe. No one else will come in time. You gotta save Bella."

"I...can't..." His shoulder was throbbing and his head was pounding like he'd just awakened from a deep sleep. He felt sick. "Hoss, I don't think I can..."

"That's your problem, Joe. You need to stop thinkin'. _Sure_ you can. You can do _anythin'_ you put your mind too." His brother leaned in so close he could smell him – smell the scent of hay and horse, of tiny animals cuddled to his massive chest, of leather and sweat. "Just keep your eyes on the prize, little brother. I promise you, there's a rest at the end. You hear me? Now you get up and you take my hand and you get goin' and save that little gal."

It took everything Joe had in him to do as his brother demanded. As he moved, a tidal wave of pain crashed over his tired and sore body and he felt a deep yearning to sink back into the mud and be swallowed by darkness. Denying it, he lifted his upper torso and caught his brother's hand. As he did, Joe felt strength pass from Hoss into him.

A strength that got him to his feet.

A strength that took him up the hill from the creek to flat land.

A strength that sent him running when he saw the flames rising into the night, consuming the small wooden line shack that stood silhouetted against the trees.

A strength that turned him to steel as he heard Bella scream.

They were lost.

He couldn't believe it, but they were. Between him and Candy Ben had been sure they could find their way through the woods in the dark. Inopportunely, the moon had decided to retreat behind the clouds, taking the stars with it, and there was no way to anchor themselves and know exactly where they were. A creek ran at the bottom of the bank to the left side of them. They'd used its voice to continue on through the dark after the light was gone. The ribbon of water ran near the old line shack on the north end of their property. He'd thought about tearing that old shack down, but it held such memories, he'd let it be. It was there Adam had found Elizabeth Carnaby, and from there the two of them had gone on to rescue Little Joe from Fleet Rowse. Somehow he'd known that line shack had a part to play in their lives that was yet to come.

He couldn't imagine what it was.

"Pa?"

There was fear in the boy's voice. Crossing over to Jamie quickly, the older man asked, "What is it, son?"

Before the boy could reply, Ben knew. He could see it in the faces of the two men who stood beside him. In fact, the answer to his question was written in the fact that he _could_ see them.

There was a light burning brightly, shining through the trees ahead of them.

The older man's heart sank.

God.

No.

"It's the shack!" Candy shouted. "It's on fire!"

Ben regretted now that they had dismounted. It had been impossible to direct the horses through the woods in the pitch dark, but he would have cherished their speed now. From what he remembered, they were still a good half-mile from the shack. On foot, it would take them at least fifteen minutes to get there – if not longer.

More than enough time for everything Joe had dreamed of to go up in smoke.

Bella crouched against the back wall of the shack, making her body as small as she could and keeping low to the ground where the air was cleaner. When Abel Ramsey had forced her into the line shack, she had known what he intended and she wasn't about to let him have what he meant to take. She'd feigned weakness and slumped to the floor, forcing him to bend down over her, and then she'd kicked him for all she was worth where it counted most. Unfortunately, while she knocked the wind out of him and caused him to stumble back, _he_ knocked into the table that held the coal oil lamp he had placed there. The lamp fell to the floor, shattered, and spread oil everywhere, setting everything on fire – including Abel Ramsey whose clothes and hair went up like a torch as he ran screaming for the door.

He didn't make it.

She'd tried to get out, but Ramsey's flaming corpse had blocked the doorway and she'd been forced to retreat into the back room where once, many years before, she had found Adam Cartwright crawling in the window and knocked him silly using a sack of flour.

Sadly, in the intervening years, someone had fixed the window. She couldn't get it open.

She hoped it hadn't been Joe.

So here she was, coughing and breathing hard, leaning against lower portion of the wall, watching the smoke creep under the closed door and listening to the crack of the flames as they gnawed at the slender wooden barrier that was all that separated her from a horrible death, and all she could think of was the man she loved.

Joe wouldn't survive this.

The fire would kill them both.

Joe had managed to keep upright and on his feet. He didn't know how, but he wasn't going to question it. As he staggered out of the trees and into the yard, he realized he was on the back side of the line shack. Involuntarily, his eyes went to the window Adam had used to climb into it all those years ago. What he saw there made his heart stop.

Bella.

In the window.

Calling his name.

As he ran toward the burning building, Joe looked around for something to use to free her. For the most part the yard was empty since no one was living in the shack right now. Even as he began to lose hope that he would be able to find something, he spotted it. Someone had been negligent, God bless them! There was an axe struck into the stump of a tree beside which lay a pile of ruined kindling. In one movement Joe caught the axe in his hand, finished his run to the shack, and swung it hard. Bella had seen him coming and shifted back. He lost sight of her as the bubbled glass shattered and the bars of wood that had held it in place flew into his face or hit the ground. He could only hope the rush of air wouldn't suck the flames toward her. He could see the bedroom door was closed. There was time.

God, there had to be time!

"Bella!" he screamed. "Bella! Jump!"

She appeared again. Her face was ghostly pale, but not blackened. Her hair was not on fire.

She was alive.

Joe reached through the broken window as she approached and pulled her out, mindless of his wounded shoulder and the glass that cut into his skin and hers. Her skirts caught on the jagged edges of the wood, halting them briefly. He ripped her free with an almost supernatural strength and they both fell to the ground. At that second there was a sound deep within the structure – a _crack!_ – and the roof fell in. The reenergized flames exploded through the door that had kept Bella safe and raced into the room where she had been. As the fire continued on, consuming everything in their path, streaking across the burning floor and toward the window, Joe felt Bella's arms circle his waist, lending him strength. He gave her a weak smile and then leaned heavily on her as she led them away from the ruin. Together they made it to the other side of the shack, upwind of the flames that were now dancing among the dry grasses and leaves. As they stood staring at the devastation one sick man had wrought, Joe's knees buckled and he dropped to the hard earth. Bella followed him. She circled him with her arms and drew him into her embrace and the two of them sat there, together, both horrified and amazed.

They were alive.

Ben Cartwright plunged through the trees, heedless of the stinging bare branches that struck him and cut his exposed skin. Candy and Jamie were shouting for him to stop, that it was too dangerous to get any closer. Telling him he was risking his life needlessly.

' _Nothing_ ', his foreman had said, Candy's own grief choking the word as he stared at the flames licking high into the night. _'Nothing in that shack could have survived.'_

He had faced many hard things in his life – Elizabeth's death, facing his small son as they traveled and having to tell Adam that they had no money or food; that he had no idea where their next meal would come from. The wagon train west. Inger with an arrow jutting from her breast. Marie and that damned horse.

Forty years of his son's illnesses and injuries and all the times Doc Martin had told him in a solemn voice, 'It's up to God."

If he died going too close to that burning shack. Well, that was up to God too!

Candy and Jamie were still yelling. Ben could hear Little Ben too and he thought Rafe as well. He'd outpaced them all by minutes, driven by a strength that was not his own to arrive in time, and so he was alone when he broke through the edge of the trees and came upon a scene straight out of _Dante's Inferno_. The autumn wind was brisk. It had caught the flames that consumed the line shack and fanned them out, setting the forest on fire. The only blessing was that it would find very little fuel there. Most of the leaves and brush had been driven to the east by the strong wind. The fire would be hot and it would leave nothing but blackened matchsticks trees and brush behind, but it was likely to burn out just as quickly as it had arisen.

Ben's bleary tear-filled eyes scanned the barren land surrounding the shack, desperate, hopeful.

Afraid.

It took a moment. Then he realized there was another blessing.

The sight of two wretched figures huddled together on the side of the shack, away from the fire.

Candy shouted again and then Jamie too. They were close and would be upon them any moment. The sound of their voices freed Ben's legs and he began to move. He covered the ground between them in record time and then dropped to the earth beside the two weary, battered, and bloodied children he loved. Reaching out, Ben drew them into his arms. He planted a kiss first on his son's sooty hair and then on Bella's.

Joe was nearly unconscious, but he stirred at the familiar touch. His son's lips curled slightly, he coughed, and then managed to rasp out a few words.

"You...don't have...to ask me...how we are...Pa." Those green eyes slid sideways to the woman he loved. Joe reached out and took her hand.

"Bella and...me. We're...fine."

'Fine', Ben found, in the next few days, was a relative word.

Getting Bella and Joe back to the Ponderosa had been an ordeal as they'd had to make certain they steered clear of the advancing fire, which kept changing directions with the wind. In the end it blew back in on itself, which proved another blessing. On the way back to the house they ran into a group of ranchers with a crew of men. They'd grabbed shovels and other tools and were headed into the woods to create fire breaks and contain the blaze. Candy and Rafe – who was proving to the surprise of everyone to have the Ashton mettle – stayed to help.

More and more he was amazed by the young man from the city whom he had thought all but worthless less than a month before.

In the end he helped his son into the saddle and carried Joe before him on his horse. Bella was able to sit one of the extra mounts they'd brought. Jamie and Benjamin returned to the ranch house with them and stayed until Joseph and Bella were settled. Then, after the pair had eaten and rested briefly, the boys insisted on going out to gather as many of the ranch hands as they could in order to aid of the other ranchers in putting out the fire. He sent his regrets that he couldn't join them.

Ben knew he was needed at home.

Joseph had been through the mill over the last two days. Not only did he have a ragged and ill-tended bullet hole through his shoulder, he'd lost a lot of blood and was completely exhausted. From what he'd been able to glean from Joe's fevered ramblings, he knew his son had lain in a creek, crawled up a hill, and then walked several miles before he reached the shack. What he had faced there was beyond ken. Bella was in better shape, though her lungs had been effected by the smoke and she had little strength. She was in the room next to Joseph's sleeping and gathering strength. He knew, once she was awake, that nothing on Earth would stop her from being at Joe's side and so, selfishly, he relished the time he had sitting with his sleeping son. It would soon pass as all things must pass. He would diminish and Bella increase in Joseph's life, as she should.

That was, if Joe still intended to marry her.

He simply couldn't understand how the Good Lord had allowed this to happen. How He allowed something as horrible as this to come to pass at a time when it seemed Joseph had made peace with his grief at last. He wondered if that fear his son had known – the fear that any woman he married might end up as Alice had – would be rekindled by Abel Ramsey's mad act.

As Ben sat there, holding one of his son's bandaged hands, the past became all too present and he wondered if Joseph had it in him to begin again.

As if in answer, Joe stirred. The older man leaned forward and ran his hand along his son's silver locks as he gently called his name.

"Joseph? Joe, can you hear me?"

His answer was a weak smile.

"You...came back," Joe said.

The older man frowned. "I didn't go anywhere, Joseph. That was you. You were searching for Bella and you found her. She's here. She's safe."

His son's eyes rolled behind the lids, but didn't open. "I got up," he said, clear as a bell.

Ben felt Joe's forehead. It was hot, but not as hot as it had been before the doctor had come and given him some medicine to bring it down. He didn't think he was delirious.

"What was that, Joseph?"

"I got...up," he repeated, more slowly this time and with less strength, "...no...holding back."

Ben wondered if he should get Paul since this was the first time Joseph had been able to link more than two words together. The doctor was downstairs getting some much needed rest. He'd been detained along the way to the Ponderosa by several burn victims and had only arrived at daybreak today. Paul had brought word with him that the fire was finally out.

Coming to a decision, Ben laid his son's hand down gently and pulled the cover over it and then rose to his feet. As he turned to leave, Joseph spoke again. Once more his voice was clear.

"Guess I showed you, middle brother."

Ben spun to look at his son, but Joseph was unconscious again. As he stood there, wondering, the older man shivered. There was a nip in the air. No, a _tingle._ Like the aftermath of a shock. He stood puzzling it over for a moment and then went to the door and headed down the stairs.

As Ben's footsteps fell silent, the shadows in the room shifted. For a moment it seemed they coalesced into a giant form that hovered over the sick bed and then, with a wind that kissed Joe Cartwright's sleeping form, was gone.

Bella stepped out into the hallway of the Ponderosa ranch house. Her gaze went to the stair and then so did she, watching as Joe's father headed over to the table to talk with Doctor Martin who was sitting, reading a newspaper. It was the second day since she and Joe had been rescued and borne away from the fire. Mister Ben had allowed her to make her feeble way to Joe's room the first night to see that he was all right, but then had promptly marched her back to her room and told her to remain in bed – her _own_ bed.

Only Ben's impressing upon her just how _much_ Joe needed his rest had kept her away.

Until today.

She just couldn't _stand_ it any longer.

Creeping back from the stair, Bella put her hand to the door of Joe's room and pushed it in. She found him sleeping, which was no surprise. Once she understood what he'd done to save her – deliberately rolling down that hill into icy water, laying on a muddy bank half-frozen, and then walking several miles to the shack with a gaping hole in his shoulder – not to mention pulling her out of a house on fire – she marveled that he was alive.

She marveled that they were _both_ alive.

Taking a seat on the chair that was pulled up beside the bed, Bella reached out and took hold of one of Joe's bandaged hands. He'd cut them both pulling her through the window. His poor hands bore the scars of the two times he had faced death in order to save the woman he loved. The first time he had failed and that failure had nearly killed him. This time he had won. Still, she wondered if he knew he had. Would the Joe Cartwright who woke up be the man he was meant to be, or would he instead be the man he had _almost_ become? A man afraid of life, afraid to take a chance on love.

Afraid to love her.

Bella sniffed. A tear fell on the white bandage.

"Hey," a soft voice said.

She looked and was surprised to find Joe watching her. His green eyes were dulled by pain but seemed clear and focused.

"Hey," she answered back.

His lips curled in a wry smile. "...gotta stop...meeting...like this."

She reached out and brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "I talked to Doctor Martin about training to be a nurse. Seems I'm going to have need of it."

Joe laughed and then winced.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Should I get –"

He'd squeezed her hand. "No. Stay." He licked his lips and swallowed. "You'll be chased out...soon...enough, I figure."

She raised up and kissed him on the lips and then sat back down.

"Good..." Joe murmured as his eyes closed.

He seemed to be weakening. Bella was suddenly scared that she had done something wrong by coming to his room. "Do you need me to get the doctor? Or maybe your Pa? I can come back."

There was a motion, like he was shaking his head. He drew in a breath. When he began again, his voice was stronger.

"I...need to tell...you something, Bella."

"It can wait," she said with a frown as she watched him shift, painfully pulling his sore body up onto the pillows so he could look at her.

"No, it can't," he said. "You...need to understand. The fire...was...well...a gift."

For a moment she thought he was out of his head. When she placed a hand on his skin to check his temperature, Joe laughed.

"I ain't crazy."

Her lips quirked. "You could have fooled me."

"Bella, for so long...all I could see... Didn't matter if...my eyes were open...or not. All I could see was Alice in that window with the flames behind her." Joe's eyes closed. "Alice...burning. My child..."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. What happened at the shack had given her a deeper understanding of what he had been through.

"I'm sorry, Joe, that you had to go through it again."

"No!" His voice softened as he opened his eyes and took hold of her hand. "No. It was God's gift. I...I couldn't save Alice." Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I couldn't save her, but I saved _you_."

She lifted her other hand to brush a tear away. "Yes, you did."

Joe slid down a bit. His head sank back into the pillow.

"It's over," he breathed. Seconds later, he was asleep.

"Well," a stern male voice declared from close behind her, "I hesitate to think what those grandchildren of yours are going to be like Ben. Neither Bella nor Joe seem to know the meaning of the word 'no'."

Bella turned to smile at Paul Martin and Joe's father and then she looked back at the man she loved. There wasn't a 'no' left in her life now.

From now on, for both of them, it was only 'yes'.


	13. Chapter 12

TWELVE

Ben Cartwright was waiting on his son to finish dressing. As Joe pulled on the formal charcoal-gray cutaway sack coat he had purchased for today's event, Ben took the opportunity to wander over to his son's cherry wood dresser. A warm winter light was streaming in the window. It struck the set of photos Joe had propped there, turning their silver frames to gold. The first was of his mother; ever, always, and forever the young Marie he had met in New Orleans and brought home to be his bride.

The second was of Hoss.

Ben sucked in emotion that threatened to choke him.

This day, in _every_ way, was bittersweet.

The older man felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Pa?" Joe asked, his tone soft and understanding.

Ben sniffed and wiped one eye. Then he nodded. "I just wish your brother could be here."

Joe moved past him to pick up the image of Hoss. It was one from a year or two before his middle son died so tragically. The big man had on his dress suit with satin vest and was holding a bowler hat. Hoss was grinning from ear to ear. At first it had surprised him when, out of all the ferrotypes they had, Joe had chosen this one to remember his middle brother by. The reason, of course, was the curly-headed man, also in his Sunday best, standing beside his giant of a brother, fighting to contain his laughter.

The portrait wasn't just a likeness of Hoss, it was the picture of all the two brothers had been.

Joe stared at the photo a moment and then returned it to its spot. When he turned to look at him, there were tears in his boy's eyes. Not unshed like his, but streaming down his cheeks.

"I saw him, Pa," Joe said quietly.

Ben blinked. The statement made no sense. Of course, Joe had seen his brother nearly every day until he'd passed. And, of course, he could not have seen him recently.

"I don't understand what you mean, Joseph. _When_ did you see your brother?"

Joe turned to look out the window. It had snowed the night before, just enough to coat the barren trees and brown grass so they glistened. Luckily, it had not been enough to keep their guests away. Ben waited as his son fought for words. When he spoke Joe didn't turn, but continued to gaze at the crisp blue sky.

"I saw Hoss the day Abel Ramsey shot me and took Bella," he said, his voice hushed with the memory. "The day of the fire."

That horrible day.

It hadn't been quite a month since then. In some ways, the events of that day felt as present as if they had happened yesterday. He could have lost them both.

 _Almost_ lost them both.

"You saw your _brother_ that day? You mean in a dream?" Joe had been very ill. He had lain unconscious for some time and had probably been delirious.

Joe turned to look at him. "I'm not sure, Pa, but I think I _really_ saw him. I was laying half in and half out of that creek, soaking to the skin, so cold and so tired I just _couldn't_ go on. Ramsey had Bella." Joe's jaw tightened still at the thought. "I knew he'd kill her and that he might...before..."

He touched his son's arm. "Joseph, there's no need to rehash this today of all days."

"But there is, Pa!" Joe sucked in air and quieted his voice. "There _is._ I was laying there and all of a sudden, Hoss was there too. He was looking down at me." Joe glanced out the window again. "The forest was bright with a golden light and he was right in the middle of it." His son's lips curled with amusement as he turned back. "Hoss told me I'd become too much like Adam for my own good."

They'd hoped Adam could make it today. He'd sent his best wishes, but unfortunately the ship he had booked passage on had run aground on its way to England. A package had arrived from him the day before addressed to Joe and Bella. Everyone was guessing what it might contain.

Ben took a moment, trying to understand what his son was telling him. "You _spoke_ to Hoss?"

"Just like I'm talkin' to you, Pa. He told me to stop lookin' back and start lookin' forward, and to remember who I was."

The older man's lips curled a bit at that. "And who are you?"

Joe laughed this time. "I think the words 'orneriest little cuss' were a part of the description."

Ben's hand fell to his son's shoulder. For a moment they just stood there, saying nothing.

"I think Hoss is here today, Pa," Joe said softly at last. "I just... _feel_ he is."

The older man drew in a breath and then he nodded.

He felt it too.

A second later there was a rap at the door. "Joe, you better hurry up," a strong male voice called. "You take any more time makin' yourself pretty and I'm gonna use it to run off with that little gal you're marryin'."

Joe placed a hand over his and held it there a moment before heading for the door. When it opened, it revealed Candy Canaday standing outside. The brown-haired man was just about as 'gussied-up' as he had ever seen him. Candy had a brown sack-coat on with darker brown Callahan dress trousers. His unruly curls had been tamed by a healthy dose of pomade. Ben's eyes flicked to his son. Joseph's hair was down to his collar. His curls were natural and about as wild as a day in the Hebrides.

The older man sighed.

On his wedding day, he _chose_ to look like a riverboat gambler.

"You can have her," Joe said with a wink as Candy stepped into the room. "I'm warning you though. If you do, life as you know it is over. You think _I'm_ willful and mulish!"

"Joseph!"

His son laughed. "It's okay, Pa. Those are the words Bella used to describe herself when she told me what I was gettin' myself into."

It was so good to see his son smiling and laughing again. The last year had been a journey from purgatory to his own private hell for the youngest of his original three. All of that sorrow and pain seemed buried at last. Joe would never forget Hoss or Alice, nor completely dismiss the evil William Tanner had done him, but he was alive and he had _chosen_ to live and to move on. He and Bella had initiated a little ceremony of their own the night before. They had come to the upstairs hall and hung a likeness of Joe and Alice near the end of it by the window – right next to one of Bella and Michael Ashton. The love and loss they had known had made them the people they were today and they had chosen to honor that rather than to ignore it.

He'd watched them as they came back down the staircase and went to sit before the fire. And then he had left them alone.

That word 'alone' returned the smile to the older man's lips. Being 'alone' in the Ponderosa ranch house right now was quite a chore. The house was filled to the rafters with family. The week before the Carnabys had arrived – Levi, Mary, Sophie, and Jack. Benjamin, of course, had been with them already. Little Ben, as they called him, and Jamie had grown thick as thieves and there were times he wondered if Jamie might not move out of the house and in with Bella's family. Rafe Ashton remained as well. The young man had undergone quite a change and was interested in learning all he could about the mining and timber industry so he could expand the family business to the frontier. It seemed that, once he decided to leave the pampered life of the city behind, Rafe found what he had been looking for – a chance to make a place and a name for himself. The older man chuckled. He had nearly split his pants laughing the day before when Rafe and Candy had ridden into the yard. The once elegant man from the city was wearing chaps and had been covered from head to foot in dirt and muck. Where before the scent of Rafe's expensive cologne had arrived at least a minute before him, now he had the distinct smell of ' _odour de horse'_.

Rafe had tried his hand at busting a bronco.

It seemed that wonders _didn't_ ever cease.

Ben's eyes returned to his son, Joseph, who stood trading jibes with his friend as Candy straightened his string tie. If someone had told him six months before that he would see his son happy, content, and at peace, he wouldn't have believed them.

God _was_ good.

"We're heading down, Pa. You coming?" Joe asked.

"In a minute. I have to see your bride."

Joseph cocked his head and grinned. "You're not thinkin' of running off with her?"

Ben dismissed his son with a wave of his hand. The only place he was going to take that girl was to the great room where their guests and the preacher were waiting.

As he stepped into the hall, Ben turned back to look into his son, Joseph's, room. The light outside the window was dazzling and it filled the area just beyond the bed. He could almost make out a shape in it. A large broad form. Or so it seemed before it vanished.

The older man smiled as he closed the door behind him.

"Thank you, son."

"Will you keep still?" her mother pleaded, not for the first time. "Veils don't pin themselves in place, you know!"

Bella drew a breath, tightened her muscles, and tried to hold still.

And failed.

As she continued to wiggle, Bella apologized. "I'm sorry, Ma. I just can't hold still! I'm, well, all excited and thrilled and kind of scared and sort of...terrified...and... _everything_ all at once."

The older woman looked at her over her spectacles. She pulled two hairpins from her lips and sighed. "It's called being in love."

Bella's blue eyes narrowed. "But _you're_ in love and you aren't all scared and nervous and...well.. _.crazy_ all the time!"

Ma's eyes sparkled. "Who says I'm not?"

Bella's hair was a pile of pinned curls. Her brother Jack had brought her a set of gold-edged ivory combs back from the city, and her Ma had used them to pull up the sides of her hair and trap most of her spiraling curls. A few had escaped and a few she had arranged in soft tendrils that framed her face. Sophie had worked paper flowers and pearls into them. The little veil that would fall down the back was the last thing to go on and, so far, it just didn't want to.

Go on, that was.

Her sister Sophie made a huffing noise and crossed over to where they stood. She'd been fussing with her own hair, trying to make herself 'gorgeous' and 'dazzling' as she said, so that Rafe Ashton would notice her. Sophie didn't need to worry. When she'd come into the Cartwright house with the rest of the family with her nose and cheeks all pink from the cold, and her nicely plumped breasts showing over the neckline of the green dress she wore, Rafe had definitely noticed. Sophie had begged their mother and Ma had agreed to let Rafe sit with the family since he had none of his own to be with today.

Sophie, of course, had already claimed the chair beside him.

The Cartwright's great room had been set up for the ceremony, with the groom's family and friends on one side and hers on the other. Hop Sing had helped her choose the decorations and prepare the menu. Since it was almost Christmas, she had wanted holly and berries and ivy and pine greens. The man from China had hung the greens and then dusted them with a fake snow and dripped tinsel from the boughs, transforming the room into a wonderland.

A wonderland in which she was going to become Mrs. Joseph Cartwright!

"Here, let me," Sophie said as she took the veil and pins. Her sister stared at her a moment and then commanded in a stern tone, "Stand still!" Bella blinked and froze. That was all it took for Sophie to swoop in and pin the veil to her head.

"I've just got the touch," her sister smirked as she returned to the mirror and her primping.

"Well," Ma said as she stood back to admire her. "I may be your mother, but I'm telling you the truth when I say I have never _seen_ a more beautiful bride!"

She had chosen a simple two piece gown of cream-colored silk gauze trimmed with silk-embroidered net lace. The sleeves of the bodice were flared and it had a 'V' neck that plunged down to reveal the top of her breasts. The bustle-back underskirt was made of the same fabric and edged with three flounces of lace. The whole ensemble was decorated with tiny satin bows and there was one great big bow above the bustle, which was attached to the belt around her waist.

Her mother took her by the shoulders and turned her around so she could look in the floor-length mirror Mister Ben had moved into her room. Bella took one look at herself and burst into tears.

A second later she was smothered in loving arms.

Bella struggled to keep the tears from falling as she considered all God had given her. Her father was waiting for her downstairs. Though he would never fully recover from the fit of apoplexy he had suffered, her pa was here and he was alive and he was going to give her away! She'd been so happy to see her family. She had missed them s _o_ much. Her only sadness was at the thought that they would leave her soon. But she needn't have worried. Unbeknownst to her, Joe's father had been corresponding with hers. Today, as the two older men sat side by side, grinning from ear to ear, Mister Ben told her that he had sold a property he owned in town to her ma and pa and the entire Carnaby Family was moving out Nevada. She'd been so thrilled, she'd thrown her arms around Mister Ben and kissed him. Joe's father had winked at her and told her she had to be sure to give Rafe a kiss too. Michael's brother had been in on it and had signed the Oregon property and the house her folks were currently living in over to them so they had the money for the move.

The Carnabys were coming to Virginia City!

A soft knock on the door made them break apart. As they all wiped away tears, her ma called out, "Yes?"

"It's Ben, Mary. Is Bella ready?"

Mister Ben was going to walk her down the stairs and then turn her over to her pa.

Her mother went to open the door. "Take a look for yourself, Ben," she said as she opened it and stepped back.

The older man moved into the room. He was silent for a moment and then he said, "I don't believe I have ever seen a young woman look more beautiful."

Bella beamed.

"Come, Sophie," her mother said as she headed out the door, "it's time we joined your father and brothers."

Joe's father continued to stare at her. "Elizabeth Carnaby," he said with a smile and a shake of his head. "Oh, how I remember the first time we met."

"Me too. I was eating jam and you were sitting on your horse looking so sad."

"I thought I had lost my son," he said.

Little Joe had gone missing. His pa and brothers had just about given up hope of finding him alive and with good cause. They _had_ almost lost Joe to some evil men who had hurt him and then abandoned him, leaving him in a burning cabin to die. Her parents had rescued Joe and then left him in her care. She'd only been eleven at the time.

She'd known then she was going to marry him one day.

Joe's father came to stand before her and took hold of both her hands. "I have you to thank that I didn't," he said.

She shifted, a little uncomfortable. "It was ma and pa pulled Joe from that burning cabin –"

The older man reached up and cupped her cheek in his big hand. "I'm not talking about the time when you were eleven, or even when you were eighteen and you saved him from Fleet Rowse. Bella, Joseph was as lost as a man could be when you came here a few months back. I know... I know...without you...I would have lost him for good."

She blinked and sniffed, and then burst into tears anew.

"Oh, now, look what I have gone and done." He smiled. "That shows you what I know about women."

She sucked in a small sob. "Mister Ben..."

The older man laughed. "You're going to be my daughter-in-law, Bella, don't you think we can drop the 'mister' now?"

Her lips twisted. She winced.

"Ben..."

At that moment there was a knock on the door.

"Well, Bella," Ben said, "this is it. Are you ready?"

She'd been ready since that night of the full moon when she'd been eleven years old and had leaned over the water and rubbed a posy beneath her chin and seen the face of her true love. She saw it again five minutes later as she descended the stairs and Joe turned to watch her come down. His eyes held the same love, the same joy, and the same desire as hers.

Twenty minutes later they were man and wife.

There had never been such a celebration at the Ponderosa.

Oh, they'd had parties over the years – plenty of them – but this was one that celebrated not only a wedding but a new lease on life for the man who held his beautiful wife in his arms and waltzed her around the dance floor. Candy had tried to cut in a few minutes earlier and they had both flatly refused him. His friend insisted with a wink that as the best man it was his right and then proceeded to warn Joe that he was going to take what was his before the night was over – even if he had to deck him to do so. At the moment their foreman was dancing with one of the many neighbors who had been invited to the wedding. She was a married woman and the pair were having fun teasing her husband by dancing close to where he stood. The man watched them with a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance. Joe looked over his shoulder and spotted his father taking a turn around the floor with Bella's mother. Even Jamie was dancing with one of the girls he had known at school. Rafe Ashton and Sophie Carnaby had been dancing but had disappeared outside.

Big brother Jack and little brother Benjamin were already on their way out the door.

Hop Sing, of course, was king of the kitchen and prince of the Ponderosa, shouting out orders and keeping everything running as smoothly as it possibly could. There were an awful lot of people in the house and the punch was flowing. It was spiked, of course.

Joe had done it himself in honor of his two missing brothers.

After the wedding they'd all gathered to share champagne and cake and what presents had been brought were opened. He saved Adam's for last and was touched to find his brother had sent them a beautiful punch bowl and glasses. In it was a note saying his _real_ present to them was a house. He would design it to their specifications and come home to supervise the building of it. Joe thought about it long and hard, and he hoped Adam wasn't too disappointed, but he'd decided that he and Bella – and any children to come – would live in the ranch house with Pa. He knew he would feel better having Bella in the house with Hop Sing when he was gone and, besides, Pa deserved the happiness of having a house full of boisterous boys again.

Joe grinned. And maybe a girl or two!

And so it was, when the day finally ended and the last glass of champagne had been drained, Joe headed up the stairs to the room they were to share. Pa had bid them goodnight, and then he and Jamie had headed into town. For the next few nights the older man was going to stay at Paul Martin's house. Jamie – willingly – had been farmed out to the Carnabys.

It seemed funny to turn toward a different room. Pa'd insisted they take his as it was the largest upstairs. For near a month now the door to the bedroom had been sealed. His father had opened it just today to show him what had been done. Along with Jamie and Hop Sing, the newly refurbished room was the family's present to the two of them. It was stocked with new furniture, including a large, heavily-carved four poster bed made of walnut, and a copper bath tub. Pa was going to sleep in the downstairs bedroom for now, and Jamie had shifted his room to the end of the hall to give them what privacy the small space could afford. As soon as he had time, he was going to write to Adam to thank him for his present and ask him if he would design a new wing for the ranch house instead. Pa was sure older brother would agree.

Joe stopped with his hand on the latch. He'd carried Bella up the stairs and over the threshold a short time before. He'd kissed her and then turned her over to her mother so the older woman could help her change. Her sister Sophie had been there too. Seemed it tookthree women to get _one_ woman out of her fancy clothes! He'd passed them in the hall a short time before. Bella's ma had touched his arm and smiled at him as she said that she hoped they slept well. Sophie had blushed red.

He'd been kind of surprised when he blushed red as well.

Joe stood just outside the door, thinking. It was near impossible for him to believe it had been almost fifteen years since he and Bella met. She'd been his ornery twin in female form, all pigtails and pluck. Over the years he had watched her grow into a beauty. He chuckled still when he thought of himself at twenty-two, all confused by the fact that the pigtails were gone and the bloom was on the rose. They'd almost made love then. They'd come darn close to it – close enough Pa would have had his hide if he had known! They could have been with each other over the last few weeks. He imagined his pa thought they had been. But something held them back. Oh, they'd necked and had a good time exploring one another's bodies, but they had not yet consummated their love. Both of them, he thought, somehow knew that the moment would be a special thing and it was too precious to rush. Oh, they'd make love plenty of times in the years ahead. Joe grinned. If it was up to him, probably more than once a night. But that first time, well...

It was something neither one of them had expected to ever see.

It was a gift from God.

Smiling, Joe rapped on the door.

Like he needed to.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Cartwright?" he asked.

At Joe's knock Bella drew a breath. She turned quickly and looked in the bureau mirror. Her hair was loose and it fell in a cascade of golden curls to her shoulders. Her elegant wedding gown had been removed and carefully packed away. She was attired now in the fine hand-embroidered muslin chemise she had worn beneath it, her wedding corset, and pantalettes. Her mother had told her to leave the pantalettes and corset on, insisting with a smile that men needed to earn what they got. She'd blushed as her mother said it and was blushing now. For some reason she felt awkward and shy. Though they had caressed and kissed and come close to ecstasy, this would be their first time making love.

Everything that was in her hungered for it.

And yet...

She loved Joe _so_ much and she knew what it was to face losing him. She'd seen him sick; near death before. The future opened suddenly before her with all of its joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies – with all of the possible outcomes of a life lived together in an uncertain world.

And she was afraid.

Tears formed in her eyes and fell silently as the door opened in. Joe was still dressed, but only in his trousers and shirt. He'd removed his tie, and the white shirt he had worn had been pulled out of his pants and lay open, revealing his well-muscled chest. She'd found over the last few weeks how strong he had grown and been amazed by the gentle power in his hands. He was no longer the slender, willowy boy she had fallen in love with, but had matured into a potent, powerful man.

Joe closed the doors and walked over to her. He took her hand and simply stood, looking at her for a moment. Finally, he reached out and touched her cheek.

"Tears?" he asked.

She sniffed and nodded.

"Of joy, or of something else?"

Bella's jaw tightened. She wouldn't lie to him. That was no way to begin their marriage.

"I'm afraid."

His green eyes held hers. He didn't dismiss what she said.

"Can you tell me about it?"

She slipped her hands inside his shirt and, with the strength of her fear, held him tightly. Bella laid her head against Joe's smooth chest and sniffed again as his fingers ran through her hair. She thought a moment and then, with a little puff of breath, said, "Life, I guess."

"Oh," he said in that way he had, making it a statement and a question at one time. "You mean 'life' in general, or living it?"

She realized how ridiculous she sounded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being silly. Forget –"

His hands caught her face and turned it up toward him. "No. I won't forget it and you're not bein' silly. We've both been through a lot. Most would think it was more than a man or woman could bear."

She held his gaze. "But not you?"

Joe's smile was wistful. "I did once. I thought I'd never take that chance – _never_ love again. But then someone wise told me I was over-thinkin' things."

Bella frowned. "Over-thinking?"

He pulled her close, so her head was against his chest again. "It's today that matters, Bella. Not yesterday or tomorrow. Pa used to say the Good Book told a man to let the days worries be sufficient for the day." He planted a kiss on her hair. "Now, I don't know about you, but I think the man upstairs knows a sight more than you or me."

"So God told you?" she asked, looking up at him.

Joe snorted. "That wasn't the 'man' upstairs I was thinkin' about."

"Joe..."

A finger on her lips stilled her question. The kiss that followed took her breath away. Joe pulled back and looked at her. A smile curled the ends of his mouth as he noticed her corset was still on. Moving behind her, he pressed his lower body into hers as he began – slowly, deliberately – to undo her corset strings. She'd laced it properly, so he had to begin at the bottom. With each cord he loosened, the garment shifted, allowing a little more play. When he was done, Joe ran his hands inside it and pulled out, lengthening the cords and allowing the stiff, multilayered garment to fall to the ground. Her husband took hold of her arms then and backed her toward the window. The moonlight was streaming in and it bathed her figure. Through the thin muslin he could see the curve of her breasts, her waist; the shape of her thighs.

They were all his as _she_ was all his. Come death, come life.

Come love.

Joe reached under her gown and loosened the tie on her pantalettes and let them fall to the polished wood floor, and then he bent down and caught her in his arms and bore her to the bed. Bella lay there on the feather tick breathless, enjoying _his_ enjoyment of her. She ran her fingers through his sabled-silver curls as he lifted her gown above her waist and then reached up and removed his shirt, revealing his tanned skin and tightly-muscled chest with all of those scars she knew and loved.

Then he waited.

Bella frowned, unsure for a moment of what she was to do. Then she realized he was giving _her_ a chance at the pleasure he'd enjoyed.

Curling her form toward his, Bella caught the button of the waistband of Joe's trousers and unbuttoned it, and then moved on to the ones that went down the front. When she'd finished, she ran her hands inside the soft cloth, brushing his hips with her fingers, and pulled his trousers down. When his naked body was revealed, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his powerfully built form. As she did, she felt him shiver. He leaned in, pressing his damp, gleaming body against and into her own. Joe's mouth sought hers and found it even as his hand moved to caress her breasts. She made a little noise and he answered it. Her arms went around his back, her fingers digging into his flesh as she urged him enter her, to take her – to move her beyond this world and to a height she had never known.

Instead, he pulled back.

Bella frowned, startled, all but dismayed. Had she done something wrong?

Was Joe displeased with her?

Then she saw his smile. He kissed her lips as his hand dropped below her waistline. Her husband had known other women, she knew it. Not only Alice, but others like Julia Bulette. He was the handsome young cowboy every woman wanted to possess both body _and_ soul. Now she understood why. He _wanted_ her. His well-developed form was tensed like a spring waiting to be sprung. But he chose to deny himself for the moment.

Though he wanted that pleasure, he wanted _her_ to have pleasure too.

With the fingers of one hand, Joe caressed her in her most private places. The other he used to explore her breasts. His lips sought one breast's center and he kissed her there. Then with a wicked grin, he used his teeth to nip her flesh.

Bella cried out in pleasure. Her back arched and she moaned. Joe touched her face. He kissed her again.

And then he took her.

Body _and_ soul.


	14. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

The door to the Ponderosa ranch house slammed shut behind the handsome curly-headed youngster that had just entered. "Pa!" he shouted. "Pa!"

A man's form appeared at the top of the stairs. His hair was white; the expression on his face one of long indulgence.

"Isn't it about time you learned to enter the house without raising the dead?" the man asked as he caught the rail and headed down the stairs.

The boy's curly blond head ducked. When he looked up, his face wore a sheepish grin. "Don't you think the dead need raisin' now and again?" he asked innocently.

The white-haired man sighed. _Now_ he understood. No matter what he said to this child of his, it made no difference. The boy's enthusiasm for life was unrestrained, as was his penchant for getting into scrapes from which he had to be rescued – frequently.

"Eric," Joe Cartwright sighed. "What am I going to do with you, boy?"

"Well, you can't toss me out with the bath water 'cause I'm the oldest," Eric grinned as he headed for the table in front of the hearth and the bowl of apples waiting there.

Joe continued down the stairs. "And as oldest, you know, you should set an example for your younger brothers and sisters."

As he spoke, the door flew open and the rest of the troop blew in.

All nine of them.

Eric was seventeen. His youngest was just under two. _He_ was just shy of fifty, and their sainted mother was forty-one.

And every bit as beautiful as the day he had married her.

Bella came in last on the arm of his father.

Ben Cartwright was over _eighty_ and still ruled the roost – or at least Pa thought he did.

Joe finished his descent. He steeled himself for the onslaught he knew was coming. They had quite a crew. The most unexpected thing was that the girls outnumbered the boys. There were five of them and he swore every single one of them took after his mother for spit and fire.

Or more probably his wife.

There was Marie and Elizabeth and Inger, and then Laura and Alice. The boys were Eric Joseph, Levi Carnaby, Adam Martin, and Benjamin Coffee Cartwright. Ben was the baby Bella was carrying in her arms. Life was a circle, he decided.

His pa was nearing the end of his time on earth and his youngest son's life had only begun.

His family had been away for two weeks. Bella had taken them all to her mother's house in Virginia City. Her Pa had passed within the year and she'd wanted to visit to cheer her mother up. All the other Carnaby kids were out of the house and married. Sophie had managed to rope Rafe Ashton. He'd sold his share of the eastern shipping business to his sister Mary and they'd settled in San Francisco. Jack had gone to Europe and met up with brother Adam, who had given him a job. They were there somewhere still, booting around the continent together. Little Ben, as they'd all called Bella's youngest brother for years now, was hardly 'little'. He was twenty-eight and was the foreman of the Ponderosa. Ben hadn't married yet and sometimes they questioned just how old he was as he and Eric – their youngest – had been known to tear up the town.

Joe had meant to join them to see Bella's ma before they returned, but the business of the ranch had kept him bound to the Ponderosa. His pa had built an empire to leave to his sons and, since he was the only one remaining, he'd made damn sure to keep it in good stead in order to pass it on to Benjamin Cartwright's grandchildren. Like his pa, he made his boys work the land. Eric was a bit of a dreamer. In some ways he reminded him of his giant of a brother. Even though Eric was small like him and his mother, he had a heart as great as Hoss' and liked nothing more than a day sitting on the edge of the lake fishing and enjoying the beauty of God's creation. Adam Martin took after his namesake. He was a thinker. At twelve Adam was already coming up with plans to improve the ranch and move it into the next century. So far Benjamin did little but cry and gurgle, but it seemed to him that he took after his aged grandfather and one day would be a man among men

His girls worked hard too, though he had to admit, he was softer on them. Bella chided him all the time for it. Of course, she more than made up for any indulgences he gave them. It was his girls now, running the kitchen and cooking for Hop Sing who was still living and in his seventies. They took care of the Chinese man who had taken care of him, even though their former cook spent most of his time yelling in Cantonese and then translating it so they'd understand what they were doing wrong.

Five girls in chorus shouting 'Pa!' broke him out of his reverie and let Joe know he was _in_ for it.

Little Alice was the first one to plow into him. Joe caught her and lifted her in an embrace. As she ringed his neck with her tiny arms, the second wave came. This time it was Laura and Inger. Marie was the oldest and she held back. Elizabeth, who wanted nothing more than to be like her older sister, stayed with her, though he could tell she was dying to jump into the melee.

Joe caught his pa's eye as the older man made for his red chair, which was still butted up against the hearth. Pa lowered himself carefully into it and then shot him a look that said, 'And I thought raising three _boys_ was a challenge!'

Life had been good to them. Oh, they'd had sickness and their share of scares. Bella had almost died when Adam was born. She'd ended up with an infection and for a week he thought he'd lose her. She told him his love had called her back. He'd been frightened after that to be with her, for fear she'd get with child and he'd have to face it all again. Joe smiled as he sat on the step and let his youngest girls crawl all over him. In the end it had been Eric who had reminded him he had to live for the day. Just like Hoss, his oldest son told him he had to stop looking back and instead look forward.

Joe smiled.

That boy didn't even know what 'back' meant.

Bella had taken off her coat and hat. She stood with her hands on her hips, assessing the damage her homecoming had caused. Her blue eyes met his, asking if he needed rescuing. Joe smiled, pinched his nose, and went down under the tidal wave of women.

To the sound of his pa's laughter.

Later that night, when the brood was in bed, he and his pa sat before the fire. It was autumn. His birthday was passed and Bella's was on the horizon, which meant their wedding anniversary was just around the corner. Pa was reading a letter from Jamie. His little brother had gone off to veterinary school like he'd wanted. He'd had every intention of returning to the Ponderosa, but a pretty little filly with hair as red as his had put a stop to that. They weren't too far away. Just in Sacramento. Jamie had opened a practice there and was doing well.

"You look tired, Pa," he said as his father let the letter fall to his lap. "Would you like me to help you to bed?"

The older man's room was permanently on the ground floor now. No one slept in the rooms he and his brothers had occupied. Adam had jumped at the idea of designing the new wing and had come home for a year to supervise it as he promised. Since then he and his family had occupied it. But they'd always shared their meals in the old dining room and their evenings together in the great room with his father. The older man was not only the heart of the Ponderosa, but the biggest part of _his_ heart.

He didn't know how he would survive it when he had to let him go.

His father stirred. "I was thinking about Bella," he said.

Joe grinned. Bella and his pa were best friends. It had been a joy to see a little of the emptiness the older man felt at the loss of the women he had loved filled with by her joyous presence.

"What about her?"

"You know, Joe, if it hadn't been for those men who tried to kill you, we never would have met Bella."

Cora Violetta Gertner's ne'er-do-well brothers had been out rustling cattle when, at seventeen, he'd stumbled on them. They'd been bound and determined he wouldn't tell anyone and had beat him and left him for dead in a burning cabin. Bella's folks had pulled him out of it, and then she had spent the next week or so looking after him.

Joe nodded as he stretched out a hand to touch the older man's sleeve. "It's like you always told us, Pa. God makes good out of bad."

His father smiled. "You have a fine family, Joe. Although I can honestly say, I had no idea what to do with those girls when they came along!"

" _I_ don't have any idea what to do with those girls now!" he laughed. "They're an undiscovered country."

His pa nodded and then fell silent. The flames cracked and popped.

"I saw your brother," Pa said out of the blue.

Adam stayed in touch. It had been more than three months since they'd heard from his far-wandering brother, though. His father was probably confused.

"Adam, you mean?"

Pa shook his head. "Hoss."

Joe swallowed over a lump in his throat. "Pa, Hoss' been gone almost twenty years."

The older man lifted a trembling hand and touched his heart. "He's never gone. Your brother is here."

His pa was old, he told himself. He was probably just having one of his 'moments'. "So what'd big brother have to say?" Joe asked as nonchalantly as he could.

"He's proud of you."

"Me? What have I done?"

Ben Cartwright's lips curled with amusement. "Learned that you're not Adam."

He loved his older brother, but Adam was a stick-in-the-mud who wouldn't take a step forward without considering two behind and two ahead of it.

"Nine kids doesn't leave a man much time to brood," he snorted.

"They're beautiful children."

"Thanks, Pa."

"Your brother is watching out for them." His father made a ' _tsking_ ' sound. "Especially that oldest one." The older man's black eyes danced and his lips curled as he looked at him. "I think they call that 'karma' nowadays."

Joe supposed that was better than calling it 'payback'.

They sat in silence a time after that. Finally, as the clock struck ten, Joe said, "It's late, Pa. Don't you think you should be getting to bed?"

His father nodded. Then he looked straight at him. " Have I told you lately, Joseph, that I love you?"

His fingers brushed the older man's hand. "All the time, Pa."

"Tell your children."

"I do, Pa. Every day just like you taught me."

Twenty minutes later, after he had seen his father to bed, Joe sat by the fire with a book in hand, staring at the embers as they flashed a pale orange, pink, and blue. He was near fifty, an age a lot of men didn't live to see. He'd had a long and eventful life, and God had been gracious enough to see him through it to an end he could never have imagined. As a young man, all he had longed for was to measure up to the shadow his pa had cast. To be as good and as strong and as loyal and honest a man as Ben Cartwright. It was hard for him to admit, but he thought he'd done it. He had five beautiful girls, four sons, a wonderful wife, and a life that seemed at times to be something out of a dream. The Ponderosa was thriving. There would be plenty and to spare for all of their children when they came into their own. Like Job out of the Bible, he'd lost a lot – his oldest brother's presence, his middle brother, Alice and the child she carried – but like Job, it had all been restored.

A hundred-fold.

"Are you coming up to bed?" a soft voice asked him. Joe recognized his wife's touch as she wrapped her arm around his waist and sat beside him.

"Just thinkin'," he said.

Bella indicated the book in his hands. "What's that?"

It was one of Adam's. His brother's namesake had been reading it and left it on the table by the hearth.

"Hamlet," he replied.

"Hamlet?" Bella's eyes widened. "Since when, Joe Cartwright, do you read Shakespeare?"

He shrugged. "Well, I gotta be able to talk to the boy about something."

He'd read Hamlet, of course, years ago. It was one of the few plays by that Shakespeare fellow he actually liked. It was sad in some ways, but there was a lot of truth in it.

"What passage was Adam Martin on?"

Joe looked at her and then he slipped his finger into the book, opening it to the place that had been marked by a gold-edged leather strip. "Let's see," he said, "Act two, scene two."

Bella frowned. "Polonius and the king?"

Hamlet was pretending to be crazy so he could find out if his uncle murdered his father or not. His uncle, who was now king, was talking to his councilor, Polonius, who had found a letter Hamlet had written to his daughter Ophelia. The puffed-out old man thought the reason for the prince's madness was his unrequited love for the girl. He'd found a letter Hamlet had written and read it to the king. _'Doubt thou the stars are fire,'_ it said. _'Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.'_

Joe looked at his beautiful wife. He closed the book and replaced it on the table and then turned to her and took her face in his hands.

"I ain't no liar," he said, with a bit of his boyish charm. "Bella Annabelle Carnaby Cartwright, I love you.'

She snuggled up against him. "Joseph Francis Cartwright, I love you too, Joe."

And they lived happily ever after.

Forever.


End file.
